


Let Our Hearts Collide

by crinkle-eyed-boo (KimmieRocks)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (sort of), 90s AU, American AU, Amnesia, Apologies to Zayn, Because Larry deserves their 90s Rom Com, Christmas, Coma, Discussions of grief, Endgame Larry, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Dinners, Grief, I know I'm sad about it too, Leaning, Louis wears the boyfriend jacket a LOT, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Movie AU, No Period Typical Homophobia, No Smut, One Direction Big Bang, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wanting someone you can't have, While You Were Sleeping AU, as if I would write anything else, discussions of cancer, discussions of lost parents, little white lies, lots of organized chaos, oh so much pining, who is a dramatic hoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-26 00:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 76,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18712876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KimmieRocks/pseuds/crinkle-eyed-boo
Summary: “Liam is in a coma.”“Yeah, we can see that,” the father says, throwing his hands in the air.“God, this is the most depressing Christmas ever,” the blonde sister mutters.“His vital signs are strong,” Dr. Higgins assures them. “Brain waves are good–”“Brain waves?” the mother wails, taking Liam’s hand in hers. “Oh my God!”“How did this happen?” the father demands.“Um, he was pushed from the platform at the subway station,” Harry pipes up.The entire family turns to look at him, confused. Harry shrinks back, wishing he could have just kept his big mouth shut.“Who’s this?” the father asks, pointing at him.“Um, I’m Harry–” he starts.“He’s Liam’s fiancé!” Jade adds helpfully from where she stands by the door.Every jaw in the room drops, including Harry’s.Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. What?When Harry, a lonely transit worker, saves the life of the handsome commuter he's been secretly pining for, an innocent mistake results in Liam Payne's family believing that Harry is engaged to their son. In the Paynes, Harry finds the big family he's always longed for...and a love he never saw coming.A While You Were Sleeping AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write the story for a LONG time; I can't believe I've finally managed to do it. I'm so excited to share it with you all. 
> 
> While we all love the romance at the center of this movie, I've always felt that, at its core, While You Were Sleeping is a love story about finding your family. As such, both Jay and Fizzy are featured in this story. I was 90% done with this fic when Fizzy passed, and after taking a step back to really think about how to move forward, I ultimately decided to not change a single thing about it. This story is my love letter to the relationship between Louis and his family, and I felt it would have done her memory a disservice to remove her from the narrative. There are also two scenes that delve pretty deeply into Harry's grief over the loss of his mother. Please take care of yourselves if that is a sensitive topic for you, and as always, you can [ message me on tumblr](https://crinkle-eyed-boo.tumblr.com/) if you want to talk specifics. I'll be making notes on the chapters where those conversations happen. 
> 
> I set this fic in 1995, when the movie takes place, but it is intentionally an idealized version of the 90s, one where no one bats an eyelash at two men being engaged and gay men can both visit their partners in the hospital and give blood easily. Also known as, how the world should be. 
> 
> And now, some thank yous...
> 
> Thank you to the mods for the massive undertaking of this fest.
> 
> Thank you to the lovely [Harrehleh](https://harrehleh.tumblr.com/) for my beautiful art. I'm so happy you picked me and that you brought Louis and Harry to life the way that you did. It was a pleasure working with you and getting to know you <3
> 
> Thank you to my fic clique for your flails and your unending support. Writing fic often takes a village. I chose a damn good one. 
> 
> My stories simply would not exist without my Alpha Beta [Maggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntledkittenface). Thank you for always giving so much of yourself when we work together. You push and challenge me, you tell me when to fuck canon, and you always know how to get me to untangle my brain whenever I get stuck. Thank you for making me a better writer and a better person. Love you 3000. 
> 
> Thank YOU for reading. 
> 
> Title comes from Backstreet Boys' "Make Believe"
> 
> A spotify playlist can be found[ here](https://open.spotify.com/user/kimmierocks/playlist/0kr8gvixOc6GlfavLIeJ9s?si=4ViKeG_KSnKA0l-9sqVm9Q). 
> 
> Please do not share my work on other sites.

Harry Styles will never forget the first time he saw the love of his life.

It was a bitterly cold Monday morning in December, his very first day working at the token booth for the downtown Number 1 train at 66th Street. It’s a bit further from his apartment than his old post at 42nd Street, but Harry’s grateful that he no longer has to fight his way through Times Square crowds on a daily basis. 66th Street is a little bit quieter, the neighborhood more relaxed and less touristy; Harry feels like he’ll be happier here, despite the fact that his position is being made practically obsolete by these newfangled Metrocards that the MTA just started rolling out.

Harry had been pretty down in the dumps about this grand, new experiment in how New Yorkers navigate the subway system. He was aware that his time as a token collector was limited, despite the Union’s assurance that it would take at least a decade for the tokens to be phased out completely. And even though he’s usually pretty good about pulling himself out of a funk (he has to be), he was having trouble with it on this particular morning. Even though he was sure this would end up being the push he needed; after all, he never intended to be with the MTA this long. It was probably a sign, that was all. A sign that he should finally, _finally_ get around to that culinary school application that he’s been putting off ever since his mom got sick.

It was a good thing. It was.  

Still, he couldn’t help but feel sad and already a little bit nostalgic for the _clink, clink, clink_ of the gold subway tokens in his window.

_Clink_.

One clink of a subway token is all it took.

At 8:28 precisely, just as the rumble of the 8:30 train down the tunnel announced its imminent arrival, Harry looked up as he pressed the button to allow a passenger through the turnstile. His heart stuttered in his chest as his life irrevocably changed. The most beautiful man Harry had ever seen strode past his booth, clearly hastening to make the oncoming train. He was exquisitely dressed in a luxe camel coat that was perfectly tailored to showcase his broad shoulders and narrow waist; a soft looking red plaid scarf that could only be cashmere was neatly knotted around his neck. His brown hair was styled immaculately, enough product in it to hold everything in place, but not so much to make it look crunchy. And his strong jaw was dusted with just enough stubble to make Harry imagine what it might feel like on his inner thighs. He was in what appeared to be a blue pinstriped suit, his long navy-clad legs trailing down to gleaming leather shoes.

But that’s not what made him beautiful. Harry saw men like this man every day, well manicured and expensive looking, all of them off to their high-powered and very important jobs in Midtown and the Financial District. This man shouldn’t make any sort of impression on him, other than a passing sense of lust.

But then the man smiled at an elderly woman as the train pulled into the station, his warm brown eyes crinkling almost completely shut and his handsome face lighting up. Harry’s heart promptly fell out of his ass as he watched the man carefully place one hand on the small of the woman’s back, gently gripping her gnarled hand in the other as he helped her onto the train. Harry’s last glimpse of the most beautiful commuter in the world was the man guiding the little old lady to one of the few empty seats in the car and helping her sit.

That was all it took. Harry knew. He just _knew_.

He was going to marry him someday.

Harry saw him again the next day. And the day after that. And the next day after that. It becomes a thing, Harry looking for the dashing stranger every weekday morning between 8:15 and 8:30. He looks forward to it every morning, sighing dreamily as the man plops a token in his window, pushing his way through the turnstile, often clutching his briefcase in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. It’s the highlight of Harry’s day, week, month, and year. (He refuses to acknowledge how sad that is. He has a life. He does. It just so happens to revolve around his job and his cat.) When it’s slow at work, Harry dreams up stories about him, imagining that he’s off to save the world at some very important law firm in Tribeca, where he obviously takes on at least half of his cases pro bono, championing the little guy against evil corporations. The man probably spends his lunch break playing with puppies at the dog park and every other weekend doing charity work for kids.

What else would the world’s most perfect man do, after all?

Because that’s what he is. Harry’s very own power-suited Prince Charming. Sure, they’ve never spoken. The man hasn’t ever really acknowledged his existence other than a brief nod every once in a while. That’s okay, though. Because Harry knows that one day they _will_ speak to each other. He just knows it. Harry will say hello as the man drops the golden token through his window...and it will be perfect. The perfect beginning to his perfect love story.

If only he could find the courage to just _do_ it.

Someday.

Maybe tomorrow, Harry thinks as he watches the man stride confidently past his booth, looking immaculate as always.

Maybe tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

“I am a strong, independent man,” Harry says aloud as he drags the large Christmas tree he’d just purchased behind him, slowly making his way down 47th Street towards his apartment building on the corner of Tenth Avenue. His arms and shoulders are starting to ache with the strain and Harry can’t help but think of that scene in _When Harry Met Sally_ when Sally manages to lug a Christmas tree back to her apartment all by herself.

Well, if Meg Ryan can do it, so can he.

Harry heaves a sigh of relief as he finally reaches the little courtyard in front of his building. Pausing to catch his breath, Harry adjusts his beloved Green Bay Packers beanie, tucking a loose curl that had escaped back behind his ear. He fishes his keys out of his pocket and takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the final leg of his journey.

Meg Ryan, Meg Ryan, Meg Ryan. He can do this.

Harry unlocks the door and swings it open, bracing it with his back as he shimmies the tree through the door, barely managing to wedge the tree inside the vestibule without completely fucking up all the branches. He takes another deep breath and whips his beanie off his head, shaking out his sweat-damp, shoulder-length curls as he eyes his narrow staircase.

Just one floor and his apartment is _right_ by the stairs.

He really should have gotten that blue spruce instead. They’re lighter.

After deciding the best plan of attack is to go up the stairs backwards, Harry stuffs his beanie in his coat pocket and grasps the trunk tightly with his keys still wrapped in his fingers. Gingerly, he starts making his way up the stairs, taking them one at a time, careful to not let the top of the tree bang too loudly against them.

He’s nothing if not polite to his neighbors.

“You know,” Harry says as a bead of sweat rolls down his temple, not even caring that he’s talking to himself. “Fifty bucks for a Christmas tree and they don’t deliver? You order seven bucks worth of chow mein from East Garden just down the street and they bring it straight to your door twenty minutes later. All you have to do is pick up the phone and then boom! Dinner is served. What kind of world are we–”

In the midst of his ranting, Harry forgets about the wonky step that’s third from the top, the one that’s slightly taller than all the others. The heel of his boot catches on it and he slips, landing hard on his ass. He watches in horror as the tree plummets to the bottom of the staircase, the top crashing through the left window of the vestibule with a resounding crack.

Shit.

Harry scrambles to his feet as he hears a clatter in the apartment directly below his; the door flings open and Harry cringes as his super, Nick Grimshaw Sr., steps into the hall, his eyes widening as he takes in the scene before him.

“Harry!”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Grimshaw!” Harry apologizes profusely. “I wasn’t paying attention and that fu–stupid third step, I slipped!”

Nick Sr. frowns, looking down at the shards of glass surrounding the Christmas tree that Harry just _had_ to have.

“How am I gonna explain this to the insurance company, Harry?” Nick Sr. questions, his New York accent even thicker than usual, since he’s upset. “Nature of claim: Christmas tree through window? You know they’re still pissed at me for the fire we had when Nick Jr. barbequed in the stairwell last summer!”

“O-oh,” Harry stammers. “I must have missed that.”

“Oh, yeah,” Nick Sr. replies, scrubbing a hand through his fluffy white hair. “Great sausages. Anyway, Harry–”

“I’ll pay for it myself,” Harry interrupts, grabbing his keys from where he’d dropped them on the step below. “My checkbook is in my apartment. I’ll...I’ll go get it right now, just hold on a sec, okay?”

“Harry–”

“No, really,” Harry assures him as he jams his key in the lock and twists, pushing his door open. “I’ll be right back.”

Harry surveys his tiny one-bedroom apartment. He rifles through the clutter on his end table, plucking his checkbook out from underneath a stack of unopened bills. He grabs the tin of Christmas cookies he’d made for the Grimshaws off of his kitchen counter, as well as the tin that he’d made for his boss, James, just for good measure. Velma, the fat orange cat who he loves more than anything in the whole world, eyes him imperiously from her favorite perch on the back of his couch.

“What?” Harry asks her. “I can bake James another batch tonight and I’m not above resorting to bribery to stay in Nick Sr.’s good graces.”

Velma meows in agreement as she stretches, digging her claws into the back of the couch.

“You’re telling me,” Harry mutters, closing the door and clambering down the stairs, just barely avoiding tripping over the goddamn tree. The door to the Grimshaw apartment is open, so Harry goes on in; Nick Sr. looks up from where he’s sitting at his desk and smiles fondly.

“See,” Harry pants, triumphantly holding up his checkbook. “Found it! How much do you think I’ll owe you? I may have to pay in installments, but I’ve picked up a few extra shifts at work, I promise I can pay–”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nick Sr. says kindly. “I know a guy in the glass business who owes me a favor. Just be more careful next time. And don’t be afraid to ask for help, okay?”

Harry’s shoulders slump in relief. He did have every intention to pay for the window, but his budget is already stretched thin as it is.

“Thank you,” Harry says gratefully. He holds up the two tins of cookies. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”

“Oh, Harry,” Nick Sr. gushes. He takes the tins and cracks one of the lids open, plucking a star-shaped frosted gingerbread cookie from the top of the pile. “You didn’t have to–”

“Hey, Pop!” a voice with the same thick New York accent shouts from the next room. “I can’t find my headphones! I got a gig in an hour!”

“Nicky, we have company,” Nick Sr. shouts back. “Come say hello!”

“Who’s here?” Nick Grimshaw Jr. calls, sauntering into the room. He stops in the doorframe, his face breaking out in a smile. “Oh, hey, Harry. Nice...ah...”

Nick looks Harry’s rumpled, sweaty form up and down, clearly looking for something to compliment but coming up short.

“Nice coat.”

Harry smiles politely as he adjusts the sleeves of his slightly shabby, dark green wool coat. Nick’s a few years older than he is, still living at home with his parents and trying to make it big as DJ, and he’s never tried to hide the crush he’s had on Harry since he moved into the building two years ago. Harry knows that Nick’s completely harmless, so he’s always been as nice as he can about it. If only he could take the hint that Harry’s just not interested.

“Thanks, Grimmy,” Harry answers, knowing Nick prefers to be called by his chosen nickname. “You look…”

Harry trails off, taking in Nick’s garishly printed, short-sleeved button-down that’s half undone, a thick gold chain glinting against his dark chest hair. The shirt is tucked into a pair of high-waisted black acid-washed jeans, the baggy legs tucked into a gleaming white pair of Reebok Pumps.

“You have a gig tonight?” Harry finishes lamely.

“I do,” Nick preens, popping his collar and smoothing the sides of his hair, which is teased up within an inch of its life. “I’m playing a house party in Sunnyside. Do you want to come with? It’s very exclusive.”

“Oh, thanks, Grimmy,” Harry replies, “I would, but I’ve got more baking to do. Another time, maybe?”

Nick nods at him and then turns back to his father.

“Pop! My headphones!”

“They’re on the dining room table where you left them last night!”

“What are they doing there?” Nick calls over his shoulder as he heads into the dining room.

“You’re the one who left them there!” Nick Sr. answers, taking a bite of his second cookie. He hums appreciatively, licking the blue frosting off his finger. “These are delicious, Harry.”

“Thanks,” Harry says shyly, his cheeks heating up. “It was my mom’s recipe.”

“You’re a nice boy, Harry,” Nick Sr. says appraisingly. “You know, Nicky’s still single…”

“Hey, Pop!” Nick shouts suddenly. “Harry can remember to call me Grimmy, why can’t you? You know I hate being called Nicky!”

“You have a family name! It’s been passed through generations of Grimshaws!”

“It’s not a _DJ_ name, Pop!” Nick whines as he comes back into the room, his large headphones hanging around his neck. “There are no DJs named _Nicky._ You know I gotta have a stage name!”

“So you’re saying you’re ashamed of your name? You should be proud, son!”

Harry knows that once the Grimshaws start shouting at each other, it likely won’t stop anytime soon. (He’s heard it often enough, living directly above them. Really, it’s their favorite way of communicating.) He starts easing his way towards the door, hoping to make a casual exit.

“Um, thanks again for taking care of the window, Mr. Grimshaw,” Harry says. “I’m just gonna...figure out how to take care of my tree.”

Nick Sr. pauses, seemingly remembering that Harry’s still in the room.

“You’re welcome, Harry,” he says, patting his shoulder. “Merry Christmas.” He whirls back around to his son, pointing at him. “Nicky! Get your coat on and help Harry take his tree upstairs before you go!”

Nick grins at Harry as he shrugs his coat on.

“Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

“Thanks,” Harry replies as he shuffles back into the hall, stepping over the tree. He grabs the trunk and awkwardly pulls it away from the window.

“You need some brute strength, eh?” Nick jokes, crouching down to grab the base of the tree. “Clearly, I’m your man.”

Harry laughs, moving to clutch the top.

“On three?”

Nick nods as Harry counts them off. They make quick work of getting the tree to the top of the stairs, the whole ordeal made much easier with two people.

“You need help setting it up?” Nick asks as Harry rests the tree against his doorframe. “I got time.”

“I’m good,” Harry answers. “Go on, you don’t want to be late for your big gig. Can’t trust the trains. I should know, I work for the MTA.”

“That’s true,” Nick laughs, turning to go down the stairs. He stops on the second step, turning back to Harry and pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. “Hey, Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Tuesday night,” Nick says, pulling out a pair of tickets.

“Tuesday night what?”

“You and me,” Nick explains, brandishing the tickets. “I got Ice Capades. I know a guy.”

“Nick,” Harry says reluctantly. “I don’t–”

“Now, now, just don’t say anything,” Nick urges, putting the tickets back in his wallet. “I know you always say no, but just. Just think about it. Please?”

Harry nods. The answer will still be no, but he feels like he should at least give Nick that much.

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” Nick grins.

Nick trots down the stairs, careful to avoid the shattered glass once he reaches the landing. He waves at Harry before he goes, the door slamming after him. Harry sighs, turning back to his apartment. He has a tree to decorate and an extra batch of cookies to bake.

********

The next morning, Harry waits patiently in line at the deli counter in his favorite bodega across the street from his subway station. His stomach grumbles and he mentally curses the construction worker in front of him who must be ordering breakfast for his entire crew. After what feels like an eternity, the construction worker leaves with a box of aluminum foil-wrapped breakfast sandwiches and Harry steps up to place his order.

“What are you having?” the cook behind the counter asks.

“The usual,” Harry answers with a smile, hoping that today will be the day this guy finally remembers his breakfast order.

“What’s that?”

Harry sighs heavily. This man literally waits on him almost every morning and Harry, being a creature of habit, never changes his order. He also knows for a fact that this guy knows the typical orders of all of his coworkers and often wonders if he’s doing it _just_ to torture him or see if he’ll snap.

“Everything bagel,” Harry says patiently. “Plain cream cheese, not toasted. Large coffee with milk and two sugars.”

The cook nods, grabbing a freshly baked everything bagel and slicing it in half.

“Not toasted!” Harry yelps as the man moves to place the bagel halves in the conveyor toaster.

“Right, right,” the man mutters.

“Harry!”

Harry looks up and sees his boss James holding the door open for the construction worker, who’s now balancing a tray of coffees along with his box of breakfast sandwiches. The man smiles gratefully at him as he leaves the bodega.

“Harry, I thought I might find you here,” James grins as he squeezes through the narrow aisle, coming to stand next to him by the counter.

“And here I was hoping you would find me in Italy,” Harry jokes, fiddling with the tails of his long scarf.

James barks a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder.

“That’s the dream, right?” James turns to the cook, who’s wrapping up Harry’s bagel. “Hey man, the usual?”

The cook nods, passing Harry his bagel and coffee, then grabbing two eggs, cracking them open over the hot griddle.

Harry barely refrains from rolling his eyes. He puts his bagel in his knapsack and pulls out a tin of Christmas cookies, passing them over to James.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Oh, Harry, you shouldn’t have!” James exclaims, cracking the tin open and inhaling the cookies’ spicy scent.

“I wanted to,” Harry shrugs. “I remembered how much you loved the cookies I made for Halloween–”

“You know, Harry,” James says, taking a bite of a green-frosted tree, “I’m recommending you for Employee of the Month.”

“Because of the cookies? Some might see that as bribery, you know.”

“No, no,” James assures him, securing the lid on the tin and tucking his cookies into his shoulder bag and then pulling out a piece of paper. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. Look, I’ve even started filling out the official commendation!”

“I didn’t even know there was an Employee of the Month,” Harry marvels, his cheeks heating up.

“Of course there is,” James scoffs. He clears his throat, his blue eyes twinkling at Harry as he reads from the form. “Supervisor James Corden nominates Harry Edward Styles for Employee of the Month. Harry is never tardy, has unparalleled customer service skills, and is the ultimate team player, always willing to help out around the station whenever he’s needed. He always works holidays, even if he’s worked the previous holiday–”

Harry’s heart sinks into his stomach. He should have known this was coming.

“Even though Harry worked Thanksgiving, he is completely willing to work Christmas Day, too?” James finishes, looking at Harry hopefully.

“James,” Harry says firmly. “I’m not working Christmas.”

“Oh, Harry, come on,” James entreats. “You’ll get a nice plaque signed by the mayor!”

“I voted for the other guy.”

“You’ll get to ride on a float in the St. Patrick’s Day parade!”

“I’m not Irish,” Harry answers resolutely. “And I hate parades.”

“Did I mention you get double holiday pay?” James wheedles, hitting Harry right where it hurts.

“I hate you,” Harry mumbles, his resolve starting to crumble.

“Look, Harry,” James sighs as he takes his bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich from the cook. “I know it sucks.”

“It really sucks, James,” Harry agrees.

“It isn’t fair, and I can’t make you do it. I know that. But Mitch just came down with the flu and Leigh-Anne can’t switch shifts because she’s committed to some big family thing. And I...I promised Julia that I would be there for her and the kids this year. It’s just...you’re the only one–”

“Without any family,” Harry finishes softly. “I know.”

“I know you’re taking one for the team. I won’t forget that,” James says gently. “You won’t have to work New Year’s. I promise.”

“Yeah, cause that’s a way less depressing holiday to be alone,” Harry laughs bitterly, taking a sip of his coffee.

“So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees finally. “Yeah, James. I’ll work Christmas Day.”

********

A massive blizzard strikes New York two days before Christmas, completely burying some towns farther upstate. The city is still digging itself out by the time Christmas morning dawns bright and clear; most of the major streets are plowed now, but the plows have left snowdrifts that come up at least to Harry’s waist and the sidewalks are still perilously icy as the snow starts to melt in the bright sunshine and then refreeze on the ice-cold pavement. Harry trudges through the gray slush on the street as he makes his way to the 66th Street station, thanking his lucky stars that he invested in a new pair of rubber boots.

He stops at the bodega, changing up his order and getting cranberry danish rather than a bagel this morning, because goddammit it _is_ Christmas and he feels like he deserves to be a little bit festive. He settles into his little booth, staying all bundled up in his beanie, coat, scarf, and fingerless gloves, because of _course_ the space heater is on the fritz again.

Merry fucking Christmas.

The station’s pretty abandoned, most people already fully ensconced in their homes to celebrate. Every once in a while, people come through the turnstiles, their arms laden with presents or bottles of wine as they make their way towards whatever holiday celebration they’re attending. But for the most part, it’s just Harry sitting in his booth daydreaming. He mentally does the math, calculating how much of his double holiday pay needs to go towards this month’s installment of his mom’s medical bills and how much he might be able to squirrel away into the Florence fund. It won’t be very much, but Harry thinks he _should_ be able to add to his little nest egg. The nest egg for a trip he’s not sure if he’s ever going to be able to take, but still, it’s nice to dream.

_Clink._

Harry startles as a token drops into his booth. His eyes widen as he looks up, seeing his future husband smiling warmly at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He’s in Harry’s favorite camel coat and plaid scarf combo and he’s clutching a bag of immaculately wrapped presents in his black leather-gloved hand.

“Hi,” the man says as he waits for Harry to buzz him through. “Merry Christmas.”

Oh my _God,_ it’s finally happening. The start to Harry’s love story.

“Heennnnnngh,” Harry replies, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth as he presses the button.

The man breezes through the turnstile, making his way down the platform, whistling to himself. He doesn’t look back, but Harry gapes after him, his heart rabbiting in his chest.

Goddammit.

“Nice coat,” Harry says, finally unsticking his tongue and finding his voice. “Merry Christmas to you, too?”

He watches the man stop on the platform; he checks his watch and peers down the tunnel, looking for any sign of an oncoming train. Harry notices two other men standing near him, eyeing the handsome man in an appraising manner.

Harry knows the feeling.  

“You’re beautiful,” Harry calls quietly. “Will you marry me? I love you!”

With a pained cry, Harry starts banging his head on the counter in frustration. He’s been waiting over a year for this man to speak to him and he can’t fucking believe he blew it.

“Hey, listen, I don’t want any trouble,” the man’s voice carries from the platform. “It’s Christmas!”

Harry gasps when he looks up to see the two men closing in around his future husband. He quickly realizes their appraising looks were very different from his own as one of them flips the end of the man’s red scarf over his shoulder and the other one reaches for his bag of presents. The man tries in vain to defend himself, but one of the thugs shoves at his shoulder while the other one makes a grab for the bag. The man flails backwards, falling off the platform and landing on the tracks below.

“Shit!” Harry cries, leaping to his feet and flinging the door to his booth open. “Oh, shit!”

He sprints down the platform, not paying any mind to the thugs who blow past him, clutching the man’s bag of presents.

“Call 9-1-1!” Harry shouts to a slack-jawed bystander who’s clutching a cellphone in her hand. The woman quickly runs back through the turnstiles in search of cell service.

“Sir!” Harry shouts, peering over the edge where the handsome man is sprawled unconscious on the train tracks. “Sir, can you hear me? Sir, are you okay?”

The man doesn’t stir.

“Shit,” Harry exclaims, adrenaline jolting through his veins as he leaps down to the tracks as well. “Shit, shit, shit, oh my God. Sir, this is so not good.”

Harry shudders as a large rat scurries past him, but he stays focused on the beautiful (and unconscious, fuck) man before him. He kneels over the man, grabbing him by the lapels of his _(so soft)_ camel coat.

“Sir, can you hear me? Are you breathing?”

Harry leans close to the man’s mouth, listening for breath sounds. They are shallow but they are there. He sighs in relief, pressing his ear to the man’s solid chest and breathing in deeply, the man’s expensive-smelling cologne filling his nostrils.

“Oh, fuck, you smell good,” Harry sighs, in spite of himself. He startles, shaking himself back into reality. “Not the time, dumbass.”

He looks down at the man; his heart races as he notices a large gash over the man’s thick eyebrow.

“Oh, please wake up, sir,” Harry says, shaking the man. He frantically pats the man’s face repeatedly, his hands trembling. “C’mon, sir, it’s Christmas, you gotta wake up!”

Harry hears the blare of a horn in the tunnel and looks up, his eyes going wide as he sees the tell-tale light of a train in the station up at 72nd Street.

“Oh, shit,” Harry exclaims. “Sir, you gotta work with me here, I need you to wake up! Somebody help me, please, Jesus!”

No one comes.

Harry tries to lift the man, but his dead weight makes it nearly impossible to move him. The light in the tunnel starts moving closer as the train picks up speed.

“Sir,” Harry says firmly. “Sir, there’s a train coming, and it’s fast. Please wake up!”

The horn blares and the brakes of the oncoming train start screeching but Harry knows that it’s too late for the train to stop completely. It’s _going_ to hit them unless Harry does something and fast. He can’t roll them into the adjoining express tunnel as that would take them over the electrocuted third rail and most definitely kill them. The tracks aren’t deep enough for two people to lay flat enough to allow the train to pass over them. Harry looks to his left, his heart leaping when he sees that they landed right in front of a tiny alcove under the platform.

“Fuck, okay,” Harry shouts, grabbing the man’s lapels and rolling them, pressing the man into the grimy wall and shielding him with his body. The train blows by them seconds later; Harry trembles with the force of keeping himself as small as possible as the train passes. He feels like the platform is shaking as well, the brakes squealing as the train finally slows to a complete stop just past them. Harry hears shouts and doors slamming as the train operators pop out of their conductor booths to investigate.

Harry lets out a sigh of relief as he pushes himself up on his elbows, looking down at the man of his dreams. The man groans, his eyes fluttering open; he blinks several times, his eyes crossing and uncrossing as he tries to focus. Harry smiles softly, stroking his hand down the man’s stubbled cheek.

“Hi,” Harry whispers. “You’re okay.”

The man groans again, his eyes rolling back in his head. He goes limp in Harry’s arms.

“We’re down here,” Harry shouts to the rising melee on the platform. “This man needs an ambulance!”

********

Harry bursts into the emergency room at Mount Sinai West, looking around frantically as he tries to catch his breath. He had sprinted to the hospital from the train station after one of the conductors of the train had kindly relieved him of booth duty once he and the handsome man had been plucked off the tracks. Harry had told himself that it would be impossible to get a cab on Christmas Day and that running the seven blocks and three avenues would just be faster. Given the stitch that is screaming in his side now, he’s regretting that choice.

“Hi,” he gasps, limping over to the admin station. “Excuse me?”

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Yes,” Harry answers gratefully. “A few minutes ago, a man should have been brought in? He was almost hit by a train?”

“Okay,” the young nurse smiles. “What’s his name?”

“I don’t know,” Harry replies, tearing off his beanie and raking his hand through his wild curls. “He just...he should have just arrived.”

“I need his name, sir. You don’t know his name?”

Harry sighs heavily, looking around the room. He sees a stretcher being hauled in through the adjoining double doors and spies a familiar camel coat and red scarf.

“Never mind,” Harry waves, walking towards the doors. “He’s right there.”

“Sir!” the nurse calls after him. “Sir, you can’t go in there!”

Harry ignores her, his mind solely focused on following his stranger.

“Hey, hey.” A doctor in a white coat steps in his path. “Where do you think you’re going, buddy?”

“That man!” Harry exclaims, pointing at the stretcher as it disappears down the hall. “I just...is he all right? I need to know if he’s okay! Please?”

“Are you family?”

“No, but–”

“Family only, sir, I’m sorry.”

“But you don’t understand,” Harry explains desperately. “I was with him when–”

“Family only,” the doctor repeats firmly. “You’re going to have to wait here.”

The doctor pushes through the double doors, following the stretcher down the hall. Harry watches him go, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Oh,” Harry sighs, stuffing his hands in his pockets and scuffing his boot on the floor. “I was going to marry him.”

Harry’s suddenly exhausted, the adrenaline of the whole morning finally starting to ebb. He slumps down in a hard plastic chair, burying his face in his hands. He knows he should just go; there are incident forms to fill out and he should definitely call James to let him know what happened. Then his comfy couch will be waiting for him, along with a cheap bottle of pinot and Velma, who always seems to know when he’s had a shitty day. But he can’t seem to summon up the energy to even move right now, so he’s just gonna sit here in this incredibly uncomfortable chair for as long as he needs to.

“Sir?”

Harry startles when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. A nurse in blue scrubs smiles down at him, her big brown eyes kind.

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes. “M’just a little out of it, I guess.”

“That’s understandable,” the nurse replies, tucking a strand of her highlighted brown hair behind her ear. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Harry,” he croaks. “Harry Styles.”

“You said you were with the man that was just brought in? The one from the train?”

Harry nods dumbly.

“My name is Jade,” she says. “I’m going to go get a status update on him, okay? And then I’ll see about getting you in to see him right away. Can you just sit tight for a bit, Harry?”

Harry nods again. Jade smiles again, squeezing his shoulder tightly.

“God, what a scary morning you’ve had, huh? Get yourself a cup of coffee, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” Harry says gratefully.

*********

After forty-five minutes, several cups of shitty hospital coffee, and one very long argument with himself about what the hell he’s even doing here, Jade returns and promptly escorts him to the fifth floor. She stops him outside of room 505 and turns to him, smiling kindly.

“I just want to prepare you before you go in, Harry,” Jade says gently. “He’s in a coma.”

Harry gasps.

A coma?

“I know that’s a scary word, I’m sorry,” Jade soothes, squeezing his bicep. “We’re still waiting on the results from his CT before we can assess the full extent of his injuries, but we should be getting them any minute and then the doctor will be able to give you some more answers. But the important thing is that he’s stable, okay? And you’re here with him now.”

“O-okay,” Harry stammers, a little confused as to why this woman is being so kind to him.

He’s not going to question it, though.

“I just know your presence will do him some good, Harry,” Jade says earnestly, leading him inside.

Harry covertly glances at the name written on the dry-erase board by the door as he enters the room.

 _Payne, Liam_.

Liam.

After all this time, he finally has a name to go with the handsome face.

It’s a nice name, Harry decides.

Harry’s met with the sight of Liam in bed, hooked up to all sorts of machines, a big bandage covering the gash over his eyebrow.

“It looks worse than it is, I promise,” Jade assures him. “We have an excellent team here, don’t you worry.”

“That’s great,” Harry replies.

“Go on,” Jade says, pushing him forward a little. “Let him hear your voice. He needs to hear that you’re here with him.”

Harry steps around to the side of the bed, pulling a chair close and sitting down. Jade hovers by the door, clearly trying to give him some modicum of privacy. He takes Liam’s hand in his, trying not to marvel too openly at how soft his skin is against his own.

“Hi,” Harry says quietly. “Everything is going to be okay, Liam. I just know it.”

Harry reaches out to smooth Liam’s hair, usually so perfectly styled, from where it falls across his forehead.

“Excuse me, Mr. Styles?” Harry looks up to see a uniformed police officer step into the room. “My name is Officer Roberts. I just have a few questions for you regarding the accident?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, standing again. “Of course, whatever you need.”

“Excuse me, Officer, is it okay if I interrupt?” A doctor, not the one who’d denied entry to Harry earlier, a different one, enters the room. “I’d like to give Mr. Styles here an update.”

“Oh yes, yes of course,” Officer Roberts replies, taking a step back and allowing the doctor through. “I’ll just wait right here.”

“Harry, I’m Dr. Higgins. I’m the head physician on Liam’s case.”

“H-hi, I’m Harry,” Harry says uneasily, shaking the doctor’s hand.

Why is everyone treating him like he’s someone super important?

“I just wanted to discuss his CT results with you,” Dr. Higgins says. “Now is a good time, right?”

Harry hears the elevator outside ding and a huge commotion starts up in the hall.

“Passes? I don’t care about passes,” a man shouts. “I just want to see our son!”

“Where is he? Where’s our son’s room?” a woman asks, her voice panicked.

“Mom, Dad, you’re being embarrassing, calm down,” an exasperated female voice chimes in. “She’s just trying to do her job.”

“Look, there’s his room right there,” another male voice interjects. “I see it! Come on, let’s go.”

“Wait! You can’t just–”

“Grandma, this way!”

Harry’s eyes widen as what appears to be Liam Payne’s entire family pours into the room.

“Oh my God, he’s so pale!” his mother cries, clinging to her two daughters, both of them practical carbon copies of her, the taller one with long dark hair, the other platinum blonde.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” the brunette sister says.

“And on Christmas Day!” A man who looks close to Harry’s age but bears little resemblance to everyone else in the room adds. “Payno, you big dummy, what did you get yourself into?”

“If only Louis were here,” the grandmother pipes up, clinging to the man’s elbow. “Louis would know what to do right now.”

“Stupid fucking blizzard,” the man answers.

“Niall!” the mother gasps. “Language!”

Harry presses himself against the wall, trying to make himself invisible. He eyes the exit longingly, but it’s just too crowded in the small room for him to make an easy escape.

“Now wait a minute,” Dr. Higgins says, taking in the sheer amount of people in the room. “What’s going on here?”

“I should be asking you that,” the father demands. “This is my son!”

“Hold on,” Higgins says, holding his hands up. “There are protocols in this hospital. We have limits to how many visitors someone can have at once. For the sake of our patients, and the staff–”

“Good thing Daisy and Phoebe stayed home with Doris and Ernie then, eh?” the man, Niall apparently, says to the grandmother.

“He’ll be okay, won’t he?” the mother asks. “Tell us he’ll be okay!”

“Doctor, please!” the father exclaims. “Tell us what’s happening!”

“Okay, okay, everyone calm down,” Dr. Higgins says. “Liam is in a coma.”

“Yeah, we can see that,” the father says, throwing his hands in the air.

“God, this is the most depressing Christmas ever,” the blonde sister mutters.

“His vital signs are strong,” Dr. Higgins assures them. “Brain waves are good–”

“Brain waves?” the mother wails, taking Liam’s hand in hers. “Oh my God!”

“How did this happen?” the father demands.

“Um, he was pushed from the platform at the subway station,” Harry pipes up.

The entire family turns to look at him, confused. Harry shrinks back, wishing he could have just kept his big mouth shut.

“Who’s this?” the father asks, pointing at him.

“Um, I’m Harry–” he starts.

“He’s Liam’s fiancé!” Jade adds helpfully from where she stands by the door.

Every jaw in the room drops, including Harry’s.

Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. What?

“No, no–” Harry starts as the room erupts in chaos. “Wait–”

“His fiancé?”

“Liam’s engaged? Since when?”

“Payno, you sly dog, you!”

“What happened to Zayn? I thought he–”

“No, you don’t understand–” Harry tries to explain over all the shouting. “I’m not–”

“He would have told us, right?” the mother asks, turning to her husband. “Surely Liam would have told us?”

“Please, please, wait–” Harry begs frantically.

“Maybe he was busy?” the grandmother asks.

“Too busy to tell his own family he’s engaged?” the father yells.

“Don’t yell at him!” the mother insists. “He’s in a coma, Geoff!”

“I’m not yelling at him,” Geoff fires back. “And a coma still doesn’t mean he should treat his family this way! Engaged!”

“God, if only Louis were here!” one of the sisters exclaims.

“Yeah, he’d love this,” the other sister snickers.

“Olive?” Niall asks, lowering the grandmother into a chair. She clutches at her chest, wheezing a little. “Olive, are you okay?”

“Mom?” the mother cries, rushing to her side.

“What’s going on?” Dr. Higgins asks with alarm.

“She has a heart problem,” the mother explains, her hand on her mother’s cheek. “She’s had three attacks already.”

“They weren’t attacks,” Olive corrects. “They were episodes.”

“Clearly nothing wrong with her hearing,” Geoff mutters, the flip remark belied by his look of concern at his mother-in-law.

“Excuse me, Doctor Higgins,” another doctor exclaims, striding in the room. Harry cringes when he realizes that it’s the doctor that stopped him in the emergency room. “What is he doing in here?”

“Hey, buddy,” Officer Roberts pipes up suddenly. “He saved his life!”

Suddenly, the room goes completely quiet as the entire Payne family once again focuses all their attention on Harry.

“You saved his life?” Mrs. Payne asks, her voice hushed. Tears sparkle in her big blue eyes.

“Well, yeah,” Harry admits, tugging on the sleeves of his sweater. “I guess I did? But I–”

“I thought he was pushed onto the train tracks?” Niall asks.

“Mr. Styles here jumped down to the tracks after him,” Officer Roberts says proudly, clapping him on the shoulder.

“You jumped on the tracks?” Geoff asks, awe in his voice.

Harry nods, not really trusting his voice right now.

“Doctor Higgins,” the smarmy young doctor insists. “It’s supposed to be family only in here.”

“Hey,” Geoff says firmly, smacking the doctor on the chest as he steps forward. “He _is_ family.”

Harry knows it’s wrong and he knows he should stop this whole misunderstanding before it goes any further than it already has but at the same time, he can’t help the way his heart soars the way hearing _someone_ call him a part of a family.

It’s been a long time since he’s had that.

“He’s the fiancé, Dr. Winston,” Dr. Higgins says witheringly. “Or did you even think to check?”

Before Harry can snap out of it and come to his senses and put an end to this whole mess, he’s descended upon by the whole family, names and introductions flying as they embrace him heartily.

“I’m Johannah, dear,” Mrs. Payne says, weaving her way around her chattering daughters Lottie and Fizzy (fleetingly he wonders what that could be a nickname for). “But please, call me Jay.”

“Jay, it’s so nice to meet you,” Harry says earnestly, his stomach doing somersaults. “But please, I need to explain–”

“No, _we_ need to explain,” Jay insists. “I’m just...I’m so sorry, Harry. We haven’t seen Liam in a while, he’s been putting so many hours to make partner, I mean, look who I am talking to, I’m sure you know how busy he’s been. I’m amazed he had time to even meet someone–”

Harry nods dumbly because he sees Liam between 8:15 and 8:30 every Monday through Friday at his subway station, other than one random week in October when he assumed Liam must have been on vacation. Like clockwork. He’s practically built the past year of his life on it. He knows Liam works hard.

But hard enough to where he doesn’t even have time to see his family?

“So clearly that must be why he didn’t tell us,” Jay continues, reaching out and tucking a curl behind Harry’s ear. “He wanted it to be a surprise, one that he shared with us in person. Oh, I’ve always wanted Liam to find a nice boy. Or girl, doesn’t matter to us as long as he’s happy. I’m so happy he found _you!”_

With a slight wail, Jay pulls him into her embrace. Harry can’t actually remember the last time someone hugged him so tight; he stiffens in surprise at first, but Jay’s hug is so firm and so insistent that Harry can’t help but melt into her a little, soaking in all the motherly affection he can possibly stand and then some. Jay smells like fabric softener and lemons and sugar and Harry suddenly misses his own mother so much that tears spring to his eyes as he clings to this total stranger with all his might. Jay hears his breath hitch and murmurs to him softly, her delicate fingers gently carding through the ends of Harry’s curls.

“There, there,” she whispers. “You’ve had a long day, Harry. It’s okay. You’ve been so brave, darling. We’re all here together now, and Liam’s going to be just fine.”

“Thank you,” Harry breathes into her hair.

He pulls back out of Jay’s embrace, both of them wiping tears from their eyes. Jay smiles at him, thumbing at his cheek.

Oh, _shit,_ these lovely people think he’s marrying their son.

What is he going to do?

“I, um...need to freshen up,” Harry says thickly. “I’m just gonna pop out to the restroom?”

“Go ahead, darling,” Jay smiles. “We’ll all be right here, hopefully Dr. Higgins can give us more of an update than ‘good brain waves.’”

Harry suddenly feels like there is no air in the room as he scoots past Lottie and Fizzy on his way to the door. His heart thuds in his chest as he grabs Jade by the elbow, tugging her along with him.

“Harry?” she asks in surprise as they stumble into the hall outside Liam’s room. Harry looks back at the open door and pulls her farther down the hall. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Why did you say that?”

“Say what?” Jade asks, her brow furrowed.

“I’m not his fiancé!” Harry hisses, careful to keep his voice down despite his rising sense of panic.

“What?” Jade squeaks, her brown eyes going wide. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve never even met the guy,” Harry explains urgently. “He’s just...he’s just a guy who comes into my station every day!”

“B-but,” Jade stammers, shaking her head. “Downstairs! I heard you say you were going to marry him, Harry!”

“Oh, God,” Harry groans, raking his fingers through his hair. “I’ve had a crush on the guy for ages! I was just talking to myself!”

“Well, next time you’re talking to yourself,” Jade scolds, “tell yourself you’re single and end the conversation right there. Oh my God, Harry! What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Harry says frantically, his chin trembling. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, fighting the tears that are threatening to burst forth. “She hugged me so tight, Jade. Like I was a member of the family. I couldn’t...I couldn’t tell her. Fuck, what am I going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Jade sympathizes. “Jesus, what a mess, I’m so sorry. I was just trying to help, you know? If I wasn’t allowed to see my girlfriend–”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry sighs, swiping under his eyes. “Christ, what a mess.”

“Nurse?” Niall calls from the doorway. “There’s a pharmacy in the hospital, yeah?”

“Yes, of course,” Jade answers. “What do you need, sir?”

“Ugh, none of that ‘sir’ business,” Niall scoffs, striding over to them, a slip of paper clutched in his hand. “Call me Niall, please.”

“And you’re...Liam’s brother?” Jade asks tentatively.

“In every way but blood,” Niall cackles, his bright blue eyes twinkling as he knocks his shoulder with Harry’s. “I’ve lived next door to the Paynes practically my entire life. Been best friends with Liam and Louis since we were in what...second grade? They’re family. Still can’t believe ole Payno pulled a fast one and got engaged without any of us knowing. Louis is gonna shit a brick. Anyway, Dr. Higgins wrote Olive a prescription for nitroglycerin and I was gonna go get it filled for her.”

“Oh, God, right, her heart problem!” Harry gasps.

“Problem?” Niall barks. “Try _problems._ I mean, don’t get me wrong, Olive is a tough ole broad, but she’s given us quite a few scares the past couple years. Y’know, I reckon you saved her life today too, Harry. In fact, I think you saved the whole family. I don’t know what we would have done if we’d lost Liam. And on fuckin’ Christmas!”

Niall tugs him into a bear hug, smacking a kiss to his temple.

“Welcome to the family, brother! We’re finally even with the girls. Well. Almost. But Nicola and Ruth both live on the other side of the country by Karen, so we’re even _here_ at least!”

How many freaking kids are in this family?

“Th-thank you,” Harry stammers, looking at Jade over Niall’s shoulder. She shakes her head, her eyes wide.

“Now where’s that pharmacy?” Niall asks Jade, releasing Harry.

“Second floor. I can show you?”

“I’m sure I’ll find it,” Niall says jovially, strolling over to the elevator and pressing the down button. “Back in a jif, Harry, don’t you go anywhere or start any stories until I get back. We’re all dying to hear how a putz like Liam managed to land a guy like you!”

********

Harry sits awkwardly in the fifth floor waiting room. He tries not to fidget too much, but it’s hard not to when you feel five pairs of eyes on you, watching your every move. He picks at a hangnail on his thumb; every time he looks up, he makes eye contact with a different member of Liam’s family, all of them smiling fondly at him, looking like they are about to burst with excitement.

Harry keeps trying to think of ways to tell them the truth, but Niall’s comment about saving the whole family keeps coming back to him. The Paynes are good people; Harry could tell that about them instantly. And they all look so fucking excited about the prospect of a new son-in-law that Harry doesn’t have the heart to break it to them.

Not yet.

After what feels like an eternity, Niall finally returns, clutching a small paper bag and a bottle of water in one hand and his cell phone in the other.

“I called the girls to give them an update, Jay,” Niall says, passing the bag to Olive. “Here ya go, Ollie. Sorry that took so long.”

Niall settles in next to Lottie on the loveseat, looking at Harry expectantly with a massive grin on his face. Olive opens the bag and pops open the little orange bottle, shaking out a pill and placing it under her tongue. Fizzy yawns, curling into her mother as she tucks her legs up on the couch. Jay shifts to accommodate her, cuddling further into Geoff.

They all keep staring at Harry.

“So tell us how you met Liam?” Olive finally asks, once her pill dissolves. Niall passes the bottle of water to her and she takes a sip, her keen eyes never leaving Harry’s face.

“Mom, Harry’s had a long day,” Jay says gently. “Maybe he doesn’t want to tell that story right now.”

“Why not?” Olive counters. “I think we could all use a nice story.”

“How do you know it’s nice?” Geoff challenges.

“Of course it was nice!” Olive insists, slapping her son-in-law on the knee. “Why wouldn’t it be nice?”

“I’m confused though. What about the other guy?” Geoff asks the rest of the family. “What was his name? The one Liam met in the bar?”

“Zayn,” Lottie supplies, rolling her eyes.

“That’s right,” Geoff exclaims, snapping his fingers. “Awfully high and mighty, that one. I never trusted him. You can never trust someone that pretty, you know.”

Harry isn’t sure if he should be amused or offended.

“Did you steal him from Zayn?” Fizzy asks eagerly, sweeping her long hair over her shoulder. “Tell me you stole Liam from Zayn, oh my God, this is amazing.”

“Fiz,” Jay admonishes softly.

“I bet it was love at first sight,” Olive says dreamily. “It was, right? I have a sense about these things.”

Harry blushes, remembering the first time he ever saw Liam. It was certainly love at first sight for _him._ What would it hurt telling them at least that?

“Well–” Harry starts.

“See, he’s blushing!” Olive says triumphantly. “I knew it was!”

“Mom, let Harry tell the story!” Jay chuckles.

“He is telling it,” Olive smirks. “I bet he picked you up in that fancy car of his, didn’t he?”

“Absolutely ridiculous having a sports car in New York City,” Geoff mutters.

“What was it about him that first struck you?” Jay asks eagerly.

“It, um, it was...his smile,” Harry admits shyly, remembering the way Liam had helped the old lady onto the train.

“They’re caps,” Geoff announces. “Six hundred bucks a tooth those cost him.”

“Geoff, be quiet,” Jay scolds, elbowing her husband. “It’s Liam’s money and he worked hard for it, he can spend it how he likes. Go on, Harry, I want to hear the rest of the story.”

“Well,” Harry sighs, allowing himself to get lost in the memory. “It was just an ordinary day at work. I was sitting in my booth, same as always. And then there was the _clink_ of a subway token and I looked up and...there he was. And he, um...he smiled. His eyes crinkled almost shut and it just like...took over his whole face, you know? And it just...it took my breath away. It was like...boom. I knew that my life would never be the same.”

“Holy shit,” Lottie breathes. “That’s just...wow.”

Harry takes a deep breath and looks up; the entire family looks back at him, completely entranced.

“I know, right?” Harry says bashfully, ruffling his hair. “Like out of a movie or something.”

“What happened next?”

Shit. He hadn’t thought that far, which was stupid. Of course they would want a follow-up to that. And he can’t exactly be like “And then he didn’t even acknowledge my presence and just got on the train.”

“Well, um–”

“Excuse me, folks,” Dr. Higgins says, strolling into the waiting room. “I have an update for you.”

Saved by the fucking bell, Harry thinks, as everyone turns to Dr. Higgins.

“As I said before, Liam is in a coma, due to the blunt force trauma to his head from his fall to the subway tracks,” Dr. Higgins continues.

Jay grips Geoff’s hand tightly in hers. Niall reaches out and squeezes Harry’s knee comfortingly.

“There’s a pretty fair amount of swelling around his brain,” Dr. Higgins explains. “But the good news is that even the short amount of time he’s been in our care, it’s started to decrease. That’s a good sign that Liam’s body is working to heal itself. That said, I don’t think Liam will be waking up tonight, he might keep us waiting for a long while. So my advice is for all of you to go home and get some rest. You’ll be alerted to any sort of change in his condition, I promise.”

“Thank you, Dr. Higgins,” Geoff says, extracting himself from Jay’s embrace and standing. He shakes his hand vigorously. “You’ve been wonderful.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Higgins says warmly. “Your son is in very good hands, I can assure you. Now, I’ve given all of you clearance to come visit Liam whenever you like, regardless of established visiting hours. Just check in at the nurses station on this floor, okay? Have a good evening.”

“Thank you,” Geoff says again. He turns to the family. “Well, you heard the man, troops. Let’s head home.”

“Do you live far away, Harry?” Jay asks as she shrugs on her coat. “You’re more than welcome to come stay with us, if you want. We’re in Astoria; it’s a full house, but our couch is available if you need company. We’ll probably order in Chinese or something like that for dinner.”

“Oh, thank you so much, but I’m just in Hell’s Kitchen,” Harry answers, winding his scarf around his neck. “Just about a fifteen-minute walk from here, actually. I should get home and check on my cat. I appreciate the offer though.”

“Okay then, but just know you’re welcome at our house any time, dear,” Jay says, embracing him tightly, which leads to a round of hugs with every member of the family. “And we’ll see you tomorrow, yes? We can’t wait to get to know you better.”

Harry’s heart hurts. This family is _so kind_ and he’s absolutely going to hell for this.

“Me too,” he replies softly.

Tomorrow. He’ll tell them the truth tomorrow.

********

Harry sits on his couch, sipping his second glass of red wine. Velma is purring contently at his side, her head resting on his thigh and _It’s a Wonderful Life_ is on his television. He can hear music and loud voices coming from the Grimshaw apartment downstairs and it seems like the Azoffs above him are having some sort of dance party, given the constant thumping of the past hour. He thinks of the Paynes and their Chinese food feast in Queens, wishing he had actually taken them up on their offer.

Everybody has somebody, it seems.

Everybody except Harry.

Most of the time, he’s fine being alone. He has all his friends at work and he’s friendly with all the regulars at the bakery he frequents on the weekends. He has Velma, the absolute love of his life. He has people...just not people he _belongs_ to. And that’s...that’s just really fucking hard during the holidays.

“Help me, Clarence, please,” George Bailey entreats from his television. “Please! I wanna live again. I wanna live again. I want to live again. Please, God, let me live again.”

Suddenly, Harry feels like if he doesn’t get out of his apartment immediately, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

He drains his glass of wine, setting it on his end table with a decisive clatter. Velma lets out a reproachful yelp as Harry stands, her green eyes narrowing.

“Sorry, baby,” Harry apologizes, scratching behind her ears. “I gotta go for a walk.”

Velma meows, turning around three times and settling in the warm spot he left on the couch.

Harry clicks off the television. He bundles up in his coat, scarf, and beanie and grabs his keys, telling himself he’s _just_ going on a walk, but he knows he’s lying to himself. Because, at least for tonight, in the eyes of everyone else in the world, he _does_ have someone he belongs to.

It doesn’t take Harry all that long to walk the twelve blocks to Mount Sinai West. He still feels like any minute someone might pop out and expose him for the imposter he is, but no one even bats an eyelash as he strides into the elevator and presses the button for the fifth floor.

“Harry Styles, here to see Liam Payne,” Harry says to the nurse on duty.

“Oh, you’re the fiancé,” the nurse coos. Harry doesn’t bother correcting her. “Go on back, hon. Room 505, remember?”

Harry nods as he slides his beanie off, stuffing it in his coat pocket. He unwinds his scarf as he makes his way back to Liam’s room down the hall. The room is dark when he reaches it (well, as dark as a hospital room with a wall of observation windows can get) and the only sounds are the gentle beeping of his heart monitor and the occasional rattle of the oxygen tank. Liam looks peaceful and serene; if it weren’t for the bandage across one eyebrow and the myriad of wires on his chest, Harry would think he was just sound asleep.

“Hi,” Harry says, removing his coat and hanging it on the hook behind the door. “Bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here so late, huh?”

The heart monitor beeps steadily. Harry flicks the little lamp next to Liam’s bed on and grabs a chair, pulling it close to the side of the bed and sitting.

“I just thought I should introduce myself,” Harry says breezily. “My name is Harry. Harry Edward Styles. Um...I think you should know that your family thinks we’re engaged. I know, right? I’ve never been engaged before, this is all very new to me, too.”

Harry can’t help but chuckle at the utter ridiculousness of the entire situation. He sweeps his fingers through his hair, laughing helplessly and looking around the room as if its shadowy corners might provide him with answers.

“I...I don’t know what to do,” he admits. “That’s what I came here to tell you. I didn’t mean for this to happen and I need you to know that, Liam. But I’m gonna figure it out, I promise. I mean...you could help me out maybe? You could wake up? I mean...if you were awake, I wouldn’t be in this mess.

“Oh, God, not that I’m blaming you,” Harry gasps, grabbing Liam’s hand. “Sorry, that was rude of me to say. This isn’t your fault! You’re the one who was mugged on Christmas Day, after all. I’m just the idiot who jumped down on the tracks after you. Can you believe I actually did that? It feels like some sort of out of body experience. This whole day does, really.”

Liam’s hand is warm and soft in his. Harry looks down at it, admiring his long fingers and neatly trimmed nails. Is it possible to have beautiful nails? Because Liam certainly has them. Harry’s not surprised. Not really. He seems like the type of man who enjoys taking good care of himself.

“The thing is,” Harry murmurs, the stillness of the room lending itself to confessing secrets. “When I was a kid, I always imagined what I would be like and where I would be and the type of things I would do when I grew up. And it was all the normal stuff, you know? I’d have a house, a big family...I’m an only child, so I’ve always wanted like tons of kids. I would never want one of my kids to be lonely like I was. Well...am.

“Not that I’m complaining or anything,” Harry assures him. “I know I’m lucky. I have a job, I have my own apartment. Sole control of the remote control, that’s very important. I don’t have to share any closet space, which would be a hard thing to do anyway, cause my closet’s miniscule. Oh, and I have a cat. Best cat in the world. Important question, Liam. Our whole relationship will hinge on this one thing: are you a cat person?”

Harry studies Liam’s sleeping face closely, smoothing out his unbandaged eyebrow.

“Nah,” Harry smiles. “You seem like you’re a dog person. We’ll have to figure out some sort of compromise ’cause me and Velma are a package deal, you know.”

Harry sighs heavily, blinking furiously as tears start to well in his eyes.

“It’s just...I’ve never met anyone I could laugh with, you know? I’ve never had anyone special to come home to. I mean...I’ve dated people, I’m not some sort of virgin or anything, but I’ve never...I’ve never just had that feeling, you know? That...zip. That feeling in your gut that tells you this person...is your person. I don’t know why I haven’t found it. Is there something wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?”

Harry sniffles, leaning over and grabbing a few tissues from the box by Liam’s bed. He dabs his tears away and blows his nose noisily.

“Don’t answer that,” Harry jokes weakly, tossing the balled-up tissues into the trash can. “God, I’m such a fucking mess.”

They sit in silence. Harry adjusts Liam’s blanket, pulling it up higher on his chest and smoothing out the wrinkles, tucking it in around his side.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Harry asks him. “Nah, I bet you don’t, you’re probably too practical for that, right? Or have you ever like...seen somebody and you _knew_ if only that person really knew you, they would...well first, they would dump the perfect supermodel they were with already, and then they would just realize that _you_ were the one that they...just wanted to grow old with?

“Ha-have you ever fallen in love with someone you’ve never even talked to?”

Harry’s throat tightens as tears start streaming down his face. He looks down at his hands, somehow unable to look at Liam’s face anymore.

“Have you...have you ever been so alone that you spend your night spilling your deepest and darkest secrets to a man in a coma?”

********

Niall taps his foot impatiently as the elevator slowly makes its way to the fifth floor. He’d just finished stuffing himself to the gills with Chinese food when he realized that he’d left his cell phone on the couch in the hospital waiting room. He’d called the nurses station from the Paynes’ landline and luckily, they were able to find it. Even though the nurse on duty had assured him that the phone would be safe until the morning, Niall had told her he would come pick it up right away.

The phone is brand new, is the thing; it’s one of those new Nokias that can actually comfortably fit in your pocket, and he’d paid and arm and a leg for it. And he’s not letting it out of his sight for any longer than necessary.

And besides, it means he can peek in on Liam. He has a few choice words for him after today because the one thing he can’t figure out for the life of him is why Liam would have kept Harry a secret from the rest of the family. He knows there’s been a good deal of tension there, has been ever since Liam ditched the family business to go to law school, really, but keeping something this big from them is fucking absurd.

The elevator dings and the doors rumble open.

“Hi,” Niall grins, striding over to the nurses station. “I’m Niall Horan. I called you about an hour about my cell phone?”

“Oh yes, of course,” the nurse replies with a sly smile, pulling open the metal file cabinet under the desktop and retrieving the phone. “A very, very, very important cell phone.”

“It is,” Niall laughs, sliding the phone into his pocket. “It was my Christmas gift to myself!”

“Oh, I understand,” the nurse assures him, showing him her own cell phone. “I ordered the exact model that Cher used in _Clueless,_ if you can believe.”

“Rollin’ with the homies,” Niall sings, wiggling his fingers just like Elton did in the movie.

The nurse giggles as she imitates him, singing along.

“What’s your name?” Niall asks, grinning at her as he leans against the counter.

“Maggie,” she answers with a smile.

“Nice to meet you, Maggie,” Niall grins. “Hey, is it okay if I go check in on Liam Payne? Room 505.”

“Of course,” she replies. “He’s very popular tonight. His fiancé is in with him now.”

“Oh, really?” Niall asks. “Well, I’ll go check in on the two of them, then. Thanks for taking care of my phone. I’m audi.”

Maggie’s laughter follows Niall as strolls down the hall, whistling to himself. As he nears Liam’s door, he slows his steps, hearing Harry’s voice.

“It’s just...I’ve never met anyone I could laugh with, you know? I’ve never had anyone special to come home to. I mean...I’ve dated people, I’m not some sort of virgin or anything, but I’ve never...I’ve never just had that feeling, you know? That...zip. That feeling in your gut that this person...is your person. I don’t know why I haven’t found it. Is there something wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?”

Niall stops just outside the door. He sees Harry through the observation window, hunched over next to Liam’s bed, his back to the window. His shoulders shake slightly and he reaches for a tissue to blow his nose; it’s no surprise he’s crying after the day he’s had.

“Don’t answer that. God, I’m such a fucking mess.”

Niall frowns. But what about Harry’s story from the waiting room? They’d all been so thoroughly charmed by the tale of love at first sight; it had been all they could talk about at dinner, Lottie and Fizzy dramatically recounting the whole thing for their siblings. Hadn’t Harry found all of those things in Liam? If they’re engaged, what the hell is he talking about?

“Do you believe in love at first sight? Nah, I bet you don’t, you’re probably too practical for that, right? Or have you ever like...seen somebody and you _knew_ if only that person really knew you they would...well first, they would dump the perfect supermodel they were with already, and then they would just realize that _you_ were the one that they...just wanted to grow old with? Ha-have you ever fallen in love with someone you’ve never even talked to?”

Oh.

_Ohhhhhhhh._

Niall barely stops himself from having an audible response, covering his mouth with his hand.

Oh, _shit_.

“Have you...have you ever been so alone that you spend your night spilling your deepest and darkest secrets to a man in a coma?”

The thing is, Niall knows he should be angry right now. Harry’s lied to them, after all. But after listening to him pour his heart out, all Niall can feel in this moment is compassion and pity for the poor guy. Niall counts himself very lucky that he’s never felt quite as alone as Harry clearly does; after all, the Paynes would never let him. Niall slowly backs away from Liam’s room, careful not to make a sound. He scrubs his hand down his face as he heads back towards the elevator. He doesn’t want to embarrass Harry or let him know that he overheard what was clearly a deeply personal and vulnerable moment. Not after everything he’s clearly been through today.

Tomorrow, he can work on getting some answers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Niall's conversation takes a turn, with them finding common ground in regards to grief and losing a parent. Read with care <3

_Beep...beep...beep._

Harry stirs, wrinkling his nose and nuzzling into Velma, who loves sleeping up by his head. He can feel the sun shining on his face and knows it’s probably well beyond time for him to get up, but why does his alarm sound so strange?

Also, why is his back fucking killing him?

_Beep...beep...beep._

Harry blinks his eyes open, immediately frowning at the scratchy and unfamiliar pale green blanket his cheek is resting on...and the hand in his. Hesitantly, he peeks up, gasping when he realizes that it’s not Velma he’s been snuggling into, but a comatose Liam Payne.

So that _wasn’t_ a dream then.

Oh fuck, did he actually _sleep_ here? All night?

He sits up with a start, his lower back screaming in protest. Fuck, he’s going to pay for that mistake today and probably tomorrow, too. He stretches his arms over his head and then digs the heels of his hands into his sore muscles, trying to give them some sort of relief. His eyes feel crusty and puffy from his crying jag the night before and his bladder feels like it’s on the verge of bursting, so he gingerly stands and hobbles over to the private bathroom. He relieves himself and then washes his hands and his face, the warm water making him feel a little more human. Swishing some water around in his mouth, Harry twists his hair up into a bun, securing it with the band he always wears on his wrist.

Harry spits the water in the sink and takes stock of his reflection in the mirror. He looks a little more presentable but the dark circles under his puffy eyes are a dead giveaway of how exhausted he is after the events of the previous twenty-four hours. Even his complexion looks sallow, and he knows it’s not just from the fluorescent lighting. He sighs, pinching his cheeks, trying to get some color in them. It’s the best he can do until he can get home and take a shower.

He goes back into Liam’s room, marveling at how the man can manage to look gorgeous even in a coma. It’s not fucking fair, honestly. Harry pushes his chair back to its place against the wall and then turns to straighten Liam’s blankets, trying to remove all evidence that he’d been here.

“Sorry about last night,” Harry says to him. “I was a bit embarrassing, wasn’t I? I blame Jimmy Stewart.”

Harry tugs the blanket back up Liam’s chest, giving him a little pat.

“Maybe we could just keep that whole meltdown between us, okay?” Harry whispers conspiratorially. “Deal?”

Harry looks at Liam, imagining him smiling his favorite smile and nodding in agreement.

“Deal,” Harry grins. “Your family will probably be here soon, so I should get going. They’re awesome, by the way, why don’t you spend time with them?”

Harry looks at Liam expectantly, willing him to open his eyes.

“I mean, I get that families can be complicated,” Harry says softly. “And I don’t know the full story. It’s not really my business. But you just...you never know when you might not have them anymore, okay? And it’s obvious how much they love you, Liam.”

Harry taps Liam’s temple gently, smiling down at him.

“Just something for you to think about while you’re all cooped up in there. I know you can hear me.”

Harry grabs his coat, shrugging it on.

“No matter what, we’ll always have room 505, won’t we? Thanks for listening.”

He winds his scarf around his neck as he walks to the door, but stops in his tracks when Geoff, Jay, and Lottie file into the room, looking at him in surprise.

“Harry!” Jay exclaims in delight.

“H-hi, guys,” Harry stammers. “Good morning.”

“Oh, honey, were you here all night?”

So much for looking presentable.

“Yeah,” Harry admits. “I...ah...I thought I’d come sit with Liam for a bit. I didn’t even realize I fell asleep.”

“Well, you must be exhausted, sweetheart,” Jay says, her voice full of motherly concern. “That was awfully sweet of you to come keep Liam company. That really helps coma patients, you know.”

“You’re like me,” Geoff smiles. “I can fall asleep just about anywhere.”

“And believe me, he does,” Lottie quips.

“How’s Liam doing this morning?” Jay asks, going to his bedside.

“Oh, well, he’s got a little more color,” Harry offers.

“He does, doesn’t he,” Jay agrees, gently combing her fingers through Liam’s hair. “He does have a little more color.”

“Well, ah...I need to go,” Harry says, drifting towards the door. “I have to go into work and fill out a bunch of paperwork, so I’ll get out of your hair. It was nice seeing you all again.”

“Geoff,” Jay says, tilting her head towards her husband. “Go on. Ask him.”

“Right, right,” Geoff nods, turning to Harry. “Harry, as you can probably guess, we weren’t able to celebrate Christmas yesterday, so we’re going to do it tonight. We would love for you to join us.”

“Oh, I–” Harry fumbles to answer. He’s incredibly touched, it’s been a long time since he’s had this kind of offer, but it’s probably a very bad idea for him to spend any more time with them than absolutely necessary. “Thank you, Geoff, Jay, that’s so kind of you to ask but I–”

“Oh, you must come, Harry,” Jay smiles.

“I really shouldn’t impose–”

“Nonsense,” Jay scoffs. “You’re family.”

“Louis will be there,” Lottie interjects. “We’re celebrating his birthday, too.”

“That’s right, we are,” Jay nods. “My Christmas Eve baby. You haven’t met Louis yet, have you, Harry?”

“No, I–”

“Oh, he’s going to _love_ you,” Lottie smirks, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“So you’ll come tonight?” Geoff asks eagerly.

“I...I really shouldn’t because I have to work early tomorrow,” Harry says lamely. “But thank you.”

“Well, look here,” Geoff says, pulling a little notebook and pen out of his shirt pocket. “How about you write down your phone number and your address here? Jay will call you and convince you.”

Harry looks between Jay, Geoff, and Lottie, taking in their eager faces and he just _knows_ there’s no way he’s going to be able to talk his way out of this.

Ignoring the voice in his head that’s screaming at him to put a stop to this _right now_ , Harry scrawls his number and address in the notebook and passes it back to Geoff, who tucks it back in his shirt pocket.

“Here’s a card for when you change your mind,” Geoff says, passing Harry a business card. “Our address is on the back.”

“Paynlinson Estate Furniture?” Harry reads off the card.

“We buy furniture from dead people,” Geoff explains. “It’s a very lucrative business, I’ll have you know. No matter what Liam says. If he ever says anything about my business at all.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Harry assures him. “But...Paynlinson?”

“Combination of our two last names,” Geoff explains, pointing between himself and Jay. “Payne and Tomlinson. We rebranded when Louis came on as my partner.”

A blended family. Maybe that explains why there are so many of them.

“It’s clever,” Harry remarks, putting the card in his wallet. “Because it’s also like a play on ‘Payne and Son,’ yeah?”

“See, Jay, Harry gets it,” Geoff grins triumphantly, clapping him on the shoulder. “I love a guy who can appreciate a good pun!”

“I do love puns,” Harry chuckles. “Okay, so I have your info. I’m gonna go. I’ll–”

“We’ll see you at seven, dear,” Jay says. “Don’t disappoint us!”

God, if only they knew, Harry thinks as he waves goodbye.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets as he strides towards the elevators. He can’t possibly go tonight. He can’t. It would be wrong.

Wouldn’t it?

Yes. It would be wrong. There is absolutely no way he can spend a belated Christmas with the Paynes. No way.

“Mr. Payne!” a voice calls after him. “Mr. Payne, wait!”

Harry turns to him, confused. A young male nurse trots up to him, carrying a small box.

“Are you talking to me?” Harry asks.

“Yes, Mr. Payne,” the nurse says breathlessly. “I’m glad I caught you.”

“But I’m Mr. Styles?” Harry questions, shaking his head. “Harry. Harry Styles?”

“Right,” the nurse says, his cheeks pinkening. “My mistake. Sorry. It’s just...I have your husband’s things!”

“He’s not my husband?”

“Right, sorry,” the nurse laughs, practically shoving the box of Liam’s possessions in his hands. “Fiancé! Sorry, can you take these? I’m late for rounds.”

“Okay,” Harry resigns, gripping the box in his hands. “Thanks.”

Honestly, at this point, what’s one more thing? He can give it all to the Paynes later.

The nurse smiles, patting him on the back and then scurrying back down the hall. Harry sighs, jamming his finger on the down button.

“Excuse me,” a man says from the nurse’s station. “You’re Liam Payne’s fiancé?”

“Sure,” Harry clips impatiently, pressing the button again.

“Anton Zaslavski,” the man says, striding over to Harry and thrusting his hand forward. “But you can call me Zedd. I’m a colleague of Liam’s at the firm.”

“Oh,” Harry says, propping the box on his hip as he shakes the man’s hand. “Hi.”

“God, I saw what happened to Liam on New York One,” Zedd says, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I couldn’t believe it. And how you saved him? That was really amazing, man.”

“Thanks,” Harry says hurriedly as the elevator dings and the door rattles open. “I have to go, excuse me.”

“Liam’s such a great guy!” Zedd exclaims, oblivious to Harry’s discomfort.

“He is,” Harry agrees, stepping into the elevator. “I’m sorry, I really have to–”

“One of the best in the firm!” Zedd simpers.

Harry sighs, stopping the elevator doors and stepping back out. He turns to the other people in the elevator apologetically, indicating for them to just go on without him.

“That’s really good to hear,” Harry says patiently. “Liam works really hard.”

“I mean, shit,” Zedd says. “He’s had a tough year, what with this and then the accident in October and all.”

“Accident?”

“Well, of course it was an accident,” Zedd insists, his blue eyes widening. “Did he tell you it wasn’t an accident? That asshole. I’ve apologized to him a thousand times at least. Did he tell you it was my fault? He did, didn’t he?”

“N-no,” Harry stammers, taken aback by the rapid change in demeanor. “He didn’t? No?”

“So we’re playing basketball, right?” Zedd starts to explain, his face reddening with anger. “And it was supposed to be a friendly game, just blowing off steam after a long day of depositions, but Liam always plays to win, you know? But it’s not like I _planned_ it or something. I always carry a pencil in my back pocket, okay? I’m a lawyer, we do that. So, I was just trying to block him…”

********

“Okay, so what’s the big deal?” James asks, taking a bite of his panini.

“What’s the big deal?” Harry parrots indignantly, adding his signature to the incident form with a flourish. “James, I’m not sure you’re understanding the gravity of the situation. These people think I’m their future son-in-law!”

“So just tell them the truth, Harry,” James states as he takes the completed form. “It can’t be that hard, can it?”

“No, it can,” Harry insists, picking through his salad and spearing a piece of grilled chicken. “You don’t get it, James, you didn’t see them yesterday. And the grandmother, Olive, she has a heart condition. She had an _episode_ yesterday during the whole ‘engagement’ reveal, it was _that_ shocking to all of them. So now, if I tell her the truth, she’s gonna have a heart attack and she’s gonna die and it’s gonna be on my head. You gotta help me.”

James looks at him, mouth agape.

“Okay,” he says, brushing crumbs off his fingers. “So you just have to go along with it. And then, when Liam comes out of his coma, the family will be so excited that they won’t even care that you lied to them. In fact, they’ll probably thank you for it.”

“...And what if Liam doesn’t wake up?” Harry asks quietly. “Those kind of freak things can happen, you know. What do I do then?”

“Then you can just, I don’t know,” James shrugs, patting his arm. “Let things peter out slowly if that’s the case. Let it run its course. In the meantime, it’s just a little white lie. You’re not hurting anyone, Harry.”

“I don’t know,” Harry admits. “It feels like I am. They’s such good people, James, and I’m lying to them.”

“Look, Harry,” James says seriously. “When Julia’s father found out we were getting married, his intestines exploded.”

“What the fuck, James?”

“I mean, yeah, it turned out to be a symptom of a long-term problem, but do you think it was a coincidence that it happened on _that_ day, Harry? I don’t.”

“Oh my God,” Harry groans. “Why am I even talking to you?”

“All I am saying is if you tell them _now,_ then...well...you might as well just shoot Grandma.”

********

“This is such a bad idea,” Harry mutters as he trudges down a sidewalk in Astoria, clutching a poinsettia in one arm and a tin of freshly baked cookies in the other. True to her word, Jay had called him that afternoon, just after he’d woken up from a much-needed nap. All of his good intentions about turning down the invitation had gone out the window during the thirty-minute conversation, which had resulted in not only Harry agreeing to come to Christmas dinner that night, but also in him volunteering to bake his gingerbread cookies to include in the dessert spread.

He’s still not quite sure how that happened.

Harry slows his steps, eyeing the building numbers. 3315, 3313, 3311…

“Harry!” Niall calls from his perch on the Paynes’ stoop. “You came!”

“O-oh, hi, Niall,” Harry says, caught off guard. “What’re you doing out here? It’s fucking freezing.”

Niall grins, holding up a silver flask.

“Just thought I’d have a little nip before the party gets started. Care to join me? It’s Jameson.”

“Oh,” Harry replies. “Um, sure.”

Harry climbs the small set of steps and sets the poinsettia and cookies on the stoop, settling in next to Niall on the top step.

“C’mon, join me,” Niall says jovially, passing Harry the flask. “Trust me, you’re going to want to avoid Olive’s eggnog later. It’s lethal.”

“Noted,” Harry chuckles, taking a sip from the flask, the whiskey immediately warming him from the inside out.

“The Packers?” Niall asks, gesturing to Harry’s beanie as he takes the flask back. “Really, Harry?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, self-consciously adjusting the green wool over his ears. “I grew up in Wisconsin. I know it’s like sacrilege to wear it here in New York, but I’ve loved them my whole life, y’know?”

“Well, at least it’s not the fuckin’ Patriots,” Niall says, bringing the flask to his lips.

“God, no,” Harry shudders. “Fuck the Patriots.”

“Good man,” Niall cackles, passing the flask back to Harry. “So what brought you to New York then?”

“Oh,” Harry says awkwardly, drumming his gloved fingers on the flask. “My...my mom got sick right after I graduated college. Breast cancer.”

“Shit,” Niall mutters.

“Yeah,” Harry replies flatly, taking a big gulp from the flask.

“She went through treatment back home,” Harry continues. “For a couple years, surgery, chemo, everything, but it just...wasn’t working, so we started looking at other options. There was this experimental program at Sloan-Kettering, so we moved here three years ago.”

“Experimental,” Niall huffs, running a hand through his dark hair. “A medical term for ‘expensive and not covered by insurance,’ yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s how I ended up with the MTA,” Harry nods, passing the flask back. “The benefits are actually pretty decent and the hours worked out okay with me still being able to take care of her. Couldn’t really afford to look for anything else. Anyway, we always knew the program was a bit of a Hail Mary. She made it about a year before passing away.”

“Jesus, Harry, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, picking some lint off his sleeve.

“I lost my dad,” Niall says after a beat. “Heart attack. I was 25.”

Harry turns to look at Niall, but he doesn’t make eye contact as he takes a sip from the flask.

“That’s awful, Niall,” Harry says softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, it broke my heart. Mom’s too, obviously. He was pretty young. Just out of the blue. No family history or anything.”

Niall stares off into space for a moment, lost in his thoughts. Harry watches him, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“But at least I didn’t have to watch him suffer,” Niall says, scrubbing his hand down his face. “Fuck, Harry, I can’t imagine going through that. It must have been so hard.”

“It was,” Harry replies, gazing up at the night sky, blinking tears away. “It wasn’t all bad though. She had her fair share of good days. And honestly...I mean, yeah, obviously I would rather have her here with me, but I also wouldn’t trade that time with her, y’know? We were always close, because it was just her and me, but those last few years...she became my best friend.”

They sit in a heavy but companionable silence; Niall passes the flask back to Harry, who takes a quick sip and then passes it back.

“It never gets any easier does it?” Harry finally asks, shifting his body closer to Niall’s, barely stopping himself from resting his head on his shoulder.

“Nope,” Niall answers, taking one last hit from the flask and then twisting the cap shut, sliding it in his coat pocket. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say that. Fuck, it’s been almost ten years and some days are totally fine, but others...it just never really goes away, you know?”

It’s not exactly the answer Harry wants, but it’s the one he was expecting.

“Yeah,” Harry murmurs. “How’s your mom doing?”

“She moved down to Florida five years ago, to be closer to her sister,” Niall says. “The New York winters were getting too rough on her arthritis.”

“You must miss her.”

“I do,” Niall affirms. “I try and get down there a couple times a year for a visit. The Paynes are always there for me though. They’re my second family.”

“You’ve been friends with them for a long time,” Harry comments.

“Ever since they moved in next door,” Niall smiles, nostalgia evident in his voice. “Jesus, that was almost thirty years ago. I’m getting fuckin’ old.”

Harry snickers.

“Louis, Liam, and I were best friends from day one. Instant brothers, totally inseparable. And that was pretty much it. I was part of the family and have been ever since. The Paynes tend to do that, in case you couldn’t tell. Adopt people.”

“I’ve noticed,” Harry smiles.

“I don’t know what I would have done without them the past few years.”

“They’re good people,” Harry says softly.

“The best,” Niall affirms. “When I say they’re family, Harry, I mean it. I’d never let anyone hurt them.”

Niall looks at him, a pointed expression on his face.

Almost like he knows something. Wait, could he know something?

Shit.

Harry swallows hard as his heart starts to pound in his chest.

“Neither would I,” Harry replies honestly.

Niall studies him for a few moments. Harry forces himself not to look away from his steady gaze.

“I believe you wouldn’t,” Niall says finally. “Listen, Harry–”

Niall is interrupted by the door opening.

“What on earth are you two doing out here?” Jay scolds. “I didn’t believe Fizzy when she said she heard voices outside, but here you are in the freezing cold! Come on inside. Dinner’s almost ready; Mom made her famous eggnog, too!”

“Remember what I said about the eggnog, Harry?” Niall says under his breath as they stand.

“Roger that,” Harry grins, gathering up his plant and cookies.

“Everyone, Niall and Harry are here!” Jay calls into the house. “Come meet your brother’s fiancé!”

“Coming!” voices shout from all corners of the house.

“So glad you decided to join us, Harry,” Jay says warmly, patting his back as she guides him inside. “Did you find us okay?”

“Your directions were perfect, thank you,” Harry says. He holds out the poinsettia. “I brought this for you. Thank you so much for having me.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet, Harry,” Jay gushes, taking the plant. “You didn’t have to do that. And these must be your cookies? Thank you so much for making them, Geoff loves gingerbread. Niall, will you take those into the dining room and help Geoff finish setting up? He’s trying to get it all decorated for Louis’ birthday. Harry, let me take your coat.”

Niall nods, hanging his coat in the front closet before taking the tin of cookies and disappearing around the corner.

Harry removes his beanie and unwinds his scarf, stuffing them in the sleeves of his coat and handing it all to Jay.

“Can I do anything to help?” Harry asks.

“Nonsense, you’re our guest,” Jay scoffs, hanging his coat up. “Just make yourself at home, sweetheart.”

“Oh my God, Mom, he’s just as cute as you said he was,” a teenage girl says, appearing on the stairs.

“Cuter,” her identical twin sister corrects, peeking out from behind her.

“Now, girls, don’t embarrass him,” Jay scolds. “Harry, these are my older twins, Daisy and Phoebe. Liam told you we have two sets of twins, right? Can you believe it?”

Harry immediately forgets which twin is which as Fizzy emerges from the basement, the second set of twins in tow.

“Hi, Harry, glad you could make it,” Fizzy grins. She nudges her little brother, who is holding something behind his back. “Ernie, show Harry what you and Doris were working on.”

“We made this for you,” Ernie says proudly, holding up a red stocking with HARRY messily written on the white trim in silver glitter.

“It matches all of ours,” Doris offers shyly, tucking one of her red curls behind her ear. “We can hang it on the mantel.”

Harry feels like he’s about to burst into tears. He looks over at Jay, who beams back at him.

“Thank you so much,” Harry says thickly. “It’s beautiful.”

“Mom, the roast is ready,” Lottie calls from the kitchen. “You know I’m no good at carving! Grandma and I need help!”

“Never a dull moment in this house,” Jay chuckles. “Kids, why don’t you show Harry into the living room? Louis should be here any minute and then we’ll eat. Harry, can I get you anything to drink? Wine? Eggnog?”

“Wine, thanks,” Harry says over his shoulder as Doris and Ernie take his hands, dragging him into the cozy living room. It, along with the rest of the house, is fully decked out for Christmas, with a large tree twinkling in the corner, covered in mostly homemade ornaments.

“You were warned about the eggnog, right?” Fizzy asks, a smirk twisting her full lips.

“Oh, yes,” Harry laughs. “Niall told me.”

“Fiz, help me,” Ernie pleads, his reach just shy of where the rest of the stockings hang on the mantel.

“Want to see some baby pictures of Liam, Harry?” one of the older twins (Phoebe, he thinks) asks, sitting down on the couch and pulling out a fat album from under the end table.

“Ooh, yes, let’s,” her sister says, sitting on the other end of the couch, patting the space in the middle, indicating Harry should join them. “I mean, this would be more fun if Liam was here so we could see him blush, but we can still tell you stories!”

“Okay, let’s have it,” Harry says, settling between the twins, unable to deny his curiosity to see if the Liam in his head matches up with the Liam in real life.

It’s actually a very enlightening glimpse into the entire family as Daisy and Phoebe flip through the book with him. He coos over pictures of Jay and Geoff’s wedding, eight-year-old Liam and Louis serving as the ring bearers alongside a three-year-old Lottie as flower girl and Liam’s two older sisters as bridesmaids. Baby Felicite (so _that’s_ what it’s short for) arrived a year later and Harry feels like his heart might burst at all the cuteness of Liam with his new baby sister. Daisy flips a page, directing Harry’s attention to a yellowing newspaper article from the New York Post, with the headline “Local Boy Saves Nest of Endangered Birds.” He quickly scans the article, seeing that Liam had saved a nest of baby Wood Thrushes in Central Park when he was ten.

A hero. Harry’s in love with a hero.

“He really saved some endangered birds?” Harry asks in awe.

“He got a plaque from a city councilman for that,” Lottie says, entering the room and handing Harry a glass of wine. “Almost twenty-five years later, he won’t let us forget it.”

The front door opens, followed quickly by the thump of someone dropping some bags on the floor.

“Anyone home?” a raspy voice calls. “The party’s finally arrived!”

“Louis!” Ernie squeals, darting out of the living room, Doris, Fizzy, and Lottie following close behind. “Louis, you’re home!”

The famous Louis. At last. The butterflies in Harry’s stomach start up again in anticipation of meeting yet another family member to pretend in front of, one everyone is so excited for him to meet. That must mean the two brothers are closer than Liam seems to be with the rest of the family, which would make sense, given that they are only a few months apart in age. Suddenly certain that if there’s _anyone_ who is going to see right through him, it’s likely going to be Liam’s brother, Harry stays frozen on the couch, staring down at Liam and Louis’ sixth grade graduation pictures. Maybe he can just sit here all night.

“Tommo!” Niall cheers from the hall. “It’s about fuckin’ time you showed your ugly mug!”

“Mom, Niall owes a dollar to the swear jar!” Doris tattles.

“Niall!” Jay scolds. “The kids!”

“You heard the girl, Neil,” Louis laughs. “You’re gonna end up paying for their college education, y’know.”

“I gave birth to him, I get to hug him first!”

“Happy birthday, son,” Geoff says. “Glad you made it home safely. How are the roads?”

“Harry, come on,” Daisy (he thinks) says, setting the photo album aside and tugging him to his feet. “It’s Louis!”

“You haven’t met Louis yet, have you?” her twin asks eagerly.

“N-no,” Harry says, tripping over his feet as he follows them. “Not yet.”

They reach the foyer and Harry can’t even see Louis at first, as he’s swarmed by his parents, grandmother, and siblings. All he can see is a pair of puffy blue jacket-clad arms wrapped around Jay’s neck. He hangs back, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself as the family fawns over Louis. It’s when Jay finally pulls back to help Louis with his coat that Harry finally gets his first glance of Liam’s brother in the flesh.

Jesus, did this family win some sort of genetic lottery?

Louis is shorter and more compact than Liam, somehow strong and delicate looking all at the same time. His brown hair is a little shaggy and artfully mussed, sprinkles of gray coming in around his temples; he’s sporting what appears to be several days of scruff, which only serves to accentuate his piercing blue eyes, sharp jaw, and high cheekbones. He throws his head back and laughs at something Jay says; his laugh is bright and melodic and _Jesus_ , if Harry thought Liam had good eye crinkles, it was only because he’d never seen Louis Tomlinson smile.

Harry melts back into the wall behind him, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible as he observes Louis.

He’s good looking, really good looking, actually, but not in the same way Liam is. There is a brightness to him and a hint of softness, something that makes him seem a bit more approachable than his brother somehow.  

“Who’s this?”

Harry shakes himself out of his fog, meeting Louis’ intensely curious gaze.

“Harry,” he says, barely managing to get his voice to cooperate. “I’m Harry.”

“And who are you, Harry?” Louis asks, his eyes sparkling.

“He’s Liam’s fiancé!” Olive supplies helpfully. “Isn’t he a dish?”

Louis barks a laugh, looking around at his family.

“You guys are pulling my leg, right,” Louis laughs. “Liam doesn’t have a fiancé!”

Oh, shit.

Harry wonders if now is the best time to just make a break for it.

“It was news to all of us too, believe me,” Niall says, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

“Since when is Liam engaged?” Louis demands, rolling up the sleeves of his red plaid flannel shirt, his eyes never leaving Harry’s face.

“It’s very new,” Harry says honestly.

“I don’t understand,” Louis starts. “When–”

“Jay, isn’t dinner on the table?” Niall says quickly. “I, for one, am starving. We should eat before it all gets cold.”

Harry could kiss Niall, honestly.

“Yes, yes, Niall is right,” Jay agrees. “Let’s eat, everyone.”

“I’ll be right in,” Louis says as everyone starts to file into the dining room. He lifts up two large shopping bags, practically overflowing with messily wrapped presents. (Another difference between the two brothers, Harry notes with an amused smile, thinking back to the immaculately wrapped presents Liam had been carrying.) “I’m just gonna put all these under the tree.”

“Presents!” Ernie cries with delight.

“Yes, yes, presents,” Louis laughs, ruffling his little brother’s hair. “There’s maybe one or two in there for you, I don’t know, we’ll have to see.”

Ernie giggles, offering to help his big brother with the bags. It’s adorable and Harry can’t help but cast a lingering glance at them over his shoulder as he follows Lottie and Fizzy into the dining room.

Harry takes a seat in between Lottie and Niall near the head of the huge dining room table, where Geoff sits. He quietly sighs in relief when Jay and Fizzy sit across from him, everyone else filling in the seats until there’s just the seat at the foot of the table for Louis. There is something in the way Louis was looking right at him, as if he could see straight through Harry, that sets him on edge. It reminds him that it’s a dangerous game he’s playing, one that he should put a stop to as soon as possible.

Tomorrow. He’ll put a stop to it tomorrow. He’s not going to ruin Christmas dinner for them.

Dinner is a raucous affair, everyone chattering away happily, the wine flowing freely for the adults. At one point, he overhears Lottie teasing Louis about a terrible ex-boyfriend; Harry chances a glance over at him, flushing when he realizes that Louis is already looking back at him, his eyes unreadable.

Harry adds “likes men” to the list he’s been mentally composing of the things he knows about Louis, taking another sip of wine and determinedly not thinking about it any further. It’s not like it matters, he’s not going to be around much longer anyway.

For the most part, Harry stays quiet, soaking it all in and just enjoying Jay’s delicious meal and listening to all the conversation. Jay dotes on him, making sure he gets a second helping of roast beef and potatoes, claiming he could use some meat on his bones. It’s the kind of big family Christmas dinner he’s always dreamed of being a part of and his heart just feels very full.

The only thing that keeps him from relaxing fully is the occasional feeling of Louis’ eyes on him, keen and a little bit unnerving, as if he’s still trying to figure out where in the hell Harry came from and how he fits into all of this madness. Harry wonders if he’s just being paranoid but then he catches Louis staring a second time, and this time Louis at least has the decency to look a little flustered by it, his cheeks pinkening.

At the end of the meal, Jay brings out a homemade chocolate cake topped with two candles in the shape of a three and five, Geoff following close behind with a stack of presents. They all sing Happy Birthday to Louis, Olive endearingly adding a slightly off-key harmony. Jay cuts the cake, the corner piece covered in frosted roses going to the birthday boy. Niall passes Harry a piece and he digs in immediately. The cake is rich in the best way and perfectly moist; Harry makes a metal note to ask Jay for the recipe. Louis basks in all the attention, oohing and aahing appropriately as he opens his gifts.

“One last gift, Boo Bear,” Jay smiles, passing Louis a soft square package.

“Mom,” Louis grumbles good-naturedly. “I’m a thirty-five-year-old man. Isn’t time that we retire ‘Boo Bear’ for good?”

“Never,” Jay replies, kissing the top of Louis’ head. “No matter how old you are, you’ll always be my Boo Bear.”

Harry doesn’t think he could possibly be more endeared by this entire family.

“Open it,” Ernie urges, wiggling around in his seat. “I know what it is!”

“I think I know, too,” Louis grins at his little brother as he starts to rip the wrapping paper. “It is tradition, after all.”

The wrapping paper falls away and Louis groans, holding up a pair of bright green flannel pajamas patterned with multi-colored Christmas lights. Doris and Ernie cheer as Lottie and Niall snicker next to Harry.

“You know, Mom,” Louis laughs, “every year I don’t think it’s possible for you to top the previous year, but you always manage to do it, don’t you?”

Jay beams at him proudly.

Harry was wrong. He _can_ be more endeared.

“I don’t suppose mentioning that I’m a _thirty-five-year-old man_ will get me out of wearing these?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Hey,” Lottie pipes up, “if I have to wear them so do you!”

“No getting out of this one, Tommo,” Niall cackles. “You know the drill.”

“Louis, come on!” Doris whines. “You know we can’t open presents until we’re all in our pajamas!”

“We can’t?” Louis questions, his eyes twinkling. “Oh, well, guess there won’t be any presents for you, then.”

“Louis, we’ve been waiting for almost _two whole days,”_ Ernie begs. “That’s practically forever.”

“You know the rules, son,” Geoff teases.

“Fine,” Louis sighs dramatically. “You win.”

“You heard your brother,” Jay says. “Everyone get changed.”

Doris and Ernie cheer, bolting out of the dining room, presumably heading for their bedrooms; Phoebe and Daisy follow close behind, trying to appear less eager, because they are seventeen and _very_ mature, but they fail miserably when it comes to masking their excitement.

The older siblings and Niall and Harry help Jay, Geoff, and Olive bring all the dishes into the kitchen before scattering to get changed into their pajamas as well. Harry isn’t the least bit surprised that even Niall is apparently included in the tradition.

“Can I help load the dishwasher?” Harry asks as Geoff and Jay start rinsing plates.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry,” Jay says, waving him away. “We’ve got it. You should go on and get changed too. The bathroom is right down the hall.”

“I didn’t bring any pajamas,” Harry says awkwardly. “I...I didn’t know–”

“Oh, goodness me, I completely forgot,” Jay gasps, going over to the kitchen table and grabbing a package identical to the one she just gave Louis. “I’m so sorry, Harry, things have been a little nuts today. These are for you.”

“For me?” Harry marvels, sliding his finger under the flap of wrapping paper and opening one end of the package, his eyes widening when he spies the bright green flannel.

Harry is so touched that he could almost cry. In fact, he very well _might_ cry.

“Yes, dear, of course,” Jay states, as if it was completely obvious. “It’s tradition. I hope it’s okay that I gave you Liam’s? He won’t mind when he wakes up, he thinks it’s a silly tradition.”

“He does?” Harry asks, surprised. “I think it’s nice.”

“It _is_ nice, isn’t it?” Jay says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I like keeping things magical, especially for the little ones. As you probably know, Liam’s missed the past couple of Christmases with us, his ex-boyfriend was always big on going somewhere tropical for the holidays. But I always buy him a pair anyway, in the hopes that he’ll join us.”

Harry doesn’t really know what to say to that. Jay smiles at him, her big blue eyes a little sad; Harry’s heart clenches in his chest at the sight.  

“Well, I love family Christmases,” Harry assures her. “And I think the pajamas are wonderful.”

“They’re going to be big on you, I’m afraid,” Jay sighs, looking at him appraisingly, clicking her tongue. “Liam’s a bit broader than you are.”

“I’m sure they’ll be perfect,” Harry says, his voice cracking ever so slightly. He hugs her tightly. “Thank you so much, Jay. Honestly.”

“You’re welcome,” Jay answers, pinching his cheek as she pulls away from him. “Now hurry up and go get changed. I honestly don’t know how much longer Ernie is going to last without presents. The bathroom is down the hall on your right.”

“Got it,” Harry says heading out of the kitchen. “Thanks.”

Harry finds the bathroom, which is thankfully unoccupied, everyone else having dispersed elsewhere in the house. He closes and locks the door, scrubbing his hands down his face as he takes several deep and cleansing breaths, willing the tears away with all his might. Once he’s certain he’s not going to end up crying on the floor of the Paynes’ guest bathroom, he splashes some water on his face for good measure and proceeds to get changed into his pajamas. He folds up his clothes neatly, resting them on the back of the toilet and then pulls the pajamas on. Jay was right, they _are_ big on him. He pulls the drawstring tight around his hips and cuffs the pants so he won’t trip over them. There’s not too much he can do about the oversized top, other than make sure it’s buttoned all the way up to the top so as to not give everyone a show. He rolls the sleeves up just past his wrists and then ruffles his hair, scrunching up the ends and surveying his work in the mirror.

He’s never loved an ugly pair of pajamas more.

Harry can hear the rest of the family gathering in the living room, so he gets going, picking up his clothes and unlocking the door. He flings it open, immediately cringing when it slams into something solid that yelps in pain.

“Oops,” Harry says, stepping out of the bathroom, all the blood rushing to his face when he sees Louis standing there in his ridiculous Christmas pajamas, his hand covering his forehead.

“Hi,” Louis grimaces.

“H-hi, Louis,” Harry stammers, his eyes wide as he steps into the hall, closing the bathroom door behind him. “Jesus, are you okay? I’m so sorry!”

“Nice aim,” Louis jokes weakly, massaging the small welt forming on his forehead. “You tryin’ to land me in the hospital with my brother or something?”

Harry blanches.

“I–” Harry fumbles. “I didn’t mean to–”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Louis apologizes, his face sobering. “I shouldn’t even joke about that, I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean it. I’m an asshole.”

“Should I get you some ice or something? Or some aspirin? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Louis assures him, sweeping his hair aside, covering the welt. “It’s probably my fault anyway. I should know better than to walk around not paying attention to where I’m going in this house.”

Louis grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners; Harry chuckles, his shoulders slumping in relief that he hasn’t caused any permanent damage. They fall silent, both of them studying each other curiously. Louis’ brow furrows as he looks at Harry and Harry’s stomach does a little flip as he fidgets under Louis’ intense scrutiny; he feels like a raw nerve ending, completely exposed.

Louis knows. He definitely knows. Harry is fucked.

“Y’know, I don’t remember ever meeting you,” Louis says finally.

“That’s probably because we’ve never met,” Harry answers simply, praying his cool facade disguises his jitters.

“That might have something to do with it,” Louis says with a crooked smile. “Y’know, it’s odd that Liam never–”

“Louis! Harry!” Jay calls “You’re holding everyone up, boys! Get a move on!”

Harry lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Don’t want to keep the kids waiting any longer,” Harry says. “We should–”

“After you,” Louis says, gesturing grandly.

Harry goes into the living room, Louis following close behind. Harry’s surprised to see all of the siblings plus Niall standing by the Christmas tree, all in their matching pajamas; Jay stands with a camera at the ready as Geoff and Olive smile from the couch, both of them sipping glasses of eggnog.

“Come on, boys, get in,” Jay says, waving them over.

Oh no. No fucking way. Harry can’t possibly be in this family’s Christmas pajama pictures. Absolutely not. He thinks of the Paynes looking at this picture years from now, with an imposter dead in the middle ruining the whole thing. He can’t do it. That’s taking this whole charade entirely too far.

“Oh, I shouldn’t,” Harry defers. “You don’t want me ruining the picture, honestly. It should just be family.”

“You are part of the family now,” Geoff says from the couch, plucking one of Harry’s cookies off a nearby plate.

“Absolutely,” Olive agrees. “You have the pajamas and everything!”

“I know, but–”

“C’mon, Harry, get in the picture,” Jay urges. “We want to remember our first Christmas with you!”

Harry wonders how his heart can both soar and sink at the same time.

“You’re not going to win this argument, Harold,” Louis teases, coming around him and moving to stand next to Niall. “Just give in.”

“Harry, we want to open presents, come on!” Ernie says, jumping up and down impatiently. “We can’t do it until we take the picture!”

Finally, Harry acquiesces with a resigned nod, taking his place next to Louis. Hopefully one day the Paynes will look back at this moment as a funny story and _not_ think of him as some sort of monster who ruined Christmas 1995.

“Okay, everyone, scoot in,” Jay directs, waving her free hand. “There’s so many of you, it’s hard to get you all in one frame and still get the tree in.”

Harry scoots into Louis, ever so slightly, still maintaining a little bit of distance.

“Harry, I still can’t quite get you in,” Jay frowns. “Just a little bit closer, dear.”

Harry inches closer.

“Come on now, he won’t bite!” Olive says helpfully from the couch.

“Fuck’s sake,” Louis mutters under his breath, slinging one arm over Niall’s shoulder, the other coming around Harry’s waist, tugging him fully into his side. “We good now, Mom?”

Harry does his best to ignore the zip that shoots down his spine at Louis’ touch.

“Perfect,” Jay nods, “Smile, everyone! I’m going to take several!”

Harry smiles, desperately hoping he doesn’t look too much like a deer in headlights. Jay takes multiple pictures, to the point where Harry feels slightly blinded by the flash. Finally she puts the camera down with a satisfied smile and Louis releases him, clearing his throat.

“Hopefully, there’s some good ones in there,” she says, taking a seat next to Geoff on the couch.  “Okay, kids, have at it.”

Ernie and Doris cheer, diving at the mass of presents under the Christmas tree in search of the perfect present to open first. Everyone else settles in around the tree, Lottie and Fizzy distributing presents around the room, since they are the closest.

“Eggnog, dear?” Olive asks Harry, holding up the carafe. “I make it special every year, you have to try some.”

Harry makes eye contact with Niall, who subtly shakes his head. He looks back at Olive, who gazes back at him with a hopeful expression. Harry doesn’t want to disappoint her.

Honestly, how bad can one glass of eggnog be? Eggnog is eggnog, right?

“I’d love some,” Harry says with a smile.

Olive beams, pouring him a glass and passing it to Fizzy, who passes it over to him, a mischievous gleam in her eye. Olive tops off her own glass.

“Olive, I thought you said you don’t drink anymore,” Geoff says.

“I did say that,” Olive affirms. “But I also don’t drink any less either.”

Harry honks a laugh, clapping his hand over his mouth. Olive winks at him, raising her glass in a toast. Harry brings his glass to his lips, the smell of bourbon filling his nostrils. He’s fully aware of all of the older siblings’ eyes on him as he tentatively takes a sip.

Oh, God.

He should have listened to them.

The drink is almost sickeningly sweet, the taste of bourbon and vanilla overpowering; it burns his throat as he forces himself to swallow, mindful of keeping his face schooled in a pleasant expression. Olive looks at him expectantly, her eyes eager.

“Delicious,” Harry manages to say, his eyes watering ever so slightly. “Absolutely delicious.”

Olive hums happily, taking another sip of her drink; Harry delicately places his glass on the coffee table, turning his attention to Ernie and Doris, who are gleefully ripping open their presents. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Louis looking at him, his face scrunched as if he’s holding back laughter, an amused smirk twisting his lips. He looks almost fond; Harry bites back a grin, his cheeks heating.

Harry had thought it would be awkward, sitting around the tree watching everyone else open presents when he has none of his own, but he finds that he actually enjoys it, just sitting back and soaking in all the happiness around him. Ernie yelps in delight as he unwraps his new Gameboy (“Look, it’s the clear one!” he proclaims proudly, holding it up for everyone to see.) while Doris lets out a squeal when she opens a pair of earrings, realizing they are meant for pierced ears. She leaps into her mother’s arms, hugging her tightly around the neck. Lottie and Fizzy pooled their resources to get Louis a fancy-looking set of woodworking tools while Phoebe and Daisy both instantly delve into their Hard Candy cosmetic kits, testing swatches of eye shadows on the back of their hands. Jay affixes a delicate gold watch on her wrist and then plants a big kiss on Geoff’s smiling lips.

Even without any presents, it’s still the best Christmas Harry’s had in a very, very long time.

“This one’s for Harry,” Fizzy says, nudging Harry with a flat square box, brightly wrapped in gold paper. “From Santa.”

Harry’s eyes go wide as he takes the box from Fizzy, touched beyond measure. He finds Jay’s eyes across the room and she winks at him, her appley cheeks rosy from both wine and excitement. He hugs the gift to his chest, almost wanting to not even open it, just wanting to savor this moment and this feeling for all time.

“Go on, dear,” Jay says kindly. “I, for one, am dying to see what Santa got you.”

Harry grins, running his fingers along the edge of the box. He finds one of the pieces of scotch tape holding the paper in place and carefully pulls it off, wanting to take his time.

“Harry, come on,” Ernie exclaims, ripping another one of his gifts open. “You do it like this!”

“He can do it how he wants, Ern,” Lottie chides, smiling over at Harry as she unwraps what appears to be some sort of straightening iron.

“That’s right,” Harry grins, meticulously unwrapping his present and setting the paper aside, finally revealing a white garment box from Macy’s.

Harry feels like his heart might burst thinking of Jay braving the day-after-Christmas crowd at Macy’s, just so she could get him a present so that he would feel more included.

He gasps as he pulls the top off and unfolds the tissue paper, gazing down at the soft-looking cable-knit lavender sweater nestled within the box. Harry unfolds the sweater, shaking it out gently before pressing it against his chest, gauging the size. Unlike his Christmas pajamas, this sweater looks like it will fit him perfectly, slightly oversized and cozy, just how he likes them.

“That’s a good color for you,” Jay says proudly. “I must say that Santa has excellent taste.”

“He does,” Harry says softly, smoothing his hand down the soft wool of his new sweater. “Thank you so much.”

Harry carefully folds his sweater back up, placing it back in the box. His throat feels tight again, tears threatening to spring forth at any moment. He takes a deep breath, looking back up at Jay, who’s still smiling softly at him, even as the chaos swirls around her.

“I don’t have any presents for you,” Harry apologizes, his voice thick. “I’m sorry. I should have–”

“Nonsense, sweetheart,” Jay says, waving away his apology before taking Geoff’s hand and squeezing it tightly. “You saved our son’s life yesterday. That’s the best present you could have ever given us. And the fact that you’re going to be a part of our family? That’s just a bonus. Merry Christmas, Harry.”

********

A phone rings in a dark apartment in a luxury building on 64th Street, just west of Central Park. It rings and rings until finally, the answering machine clicks on.

“This is Liam Payne,” the voice on the machine says smoothly, echoing in the silent apartment. “Leave a message at the tone and I’ll return your call as soon as possible. Ciao.”

“Hi, Li, it’s Zayn. Berlin is absolutely gorgeous, you wouldn’t believe the energy here. But listen, I’m cutting my trip short, because I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching while I’ve been here and y’know...what the hell? I _will_ marry you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Louis doesn’t sleep very well.

Flipping over onto his back, Louis groans softly as the old air mattress shifts with his weight. He stares up at the peeling glow-in-the-dark stars on Ernie’s ceiling (stars that he’s pretty sure have been there since Fizzy had this room), the early morning light streaming in through the slats of the blinds. Ordinarily, when the house is bursting at the seams like this, he would have just crashed next door at Niall’s, where he could have his own _real_ bed. But Ernie had insisted on having a sleepover, and really, who was Louis to deny his little brother that on Christmas? So Louis and Geoff had fetched the air mattress from the storage closet in the basement, blown it up, and wedged it in next to Ernie’s twin bed.

That’s why he didn’t get much sleep, Louis muses, twisting his spine and sighing with satisfaction when it pops. It’s all due to sleeping on an air mattress from the early eighties and absolutely nothing to do with Liam’s fiancé, who is sleeping on the couch downstairs, his mother having insisted that he stay, due to the late hour and the copious amounts of wine.

Harry.

Louis sighs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

It doesn’t make any sense, is the thing. He hasn’t seen Liam in a few months; they’ve both been swamped at work, between Liam having a massive case in addition to the crazy hours he’s been putting in so he can make partner and Louis balancing the business and the uptick in commissions he’s been getting. (He _really_ needs to talk to Geoff about that, and soon.) But they still call each other fairly regularly, even if it’s just a quick check-in. You would think that at some point in those phone calls that Liam would have shared this little piece of information, that he had not only met someone new but had fucking proposed.

When did this happen? What the fuck happened to Zayn?

And that’s the other thing that’s making Louis a little nuts: Harry isn’t at all the type Liam has gone for in the past. Liam usually goes for beautiful supermodel types, the kind of men or women that demand attention but are standoffish at the same time. The kind that wield the power their beauty gives them to intimidate lesser mere mortals. Harry is the complete opposite of that with his gangly limbs and his chocolate ringlets and his big green doe eyes and his fucking _dimples,_ emanating warmth and loveliness like some sort of Disney character who wandered right off the screen and into their lives, charming every single member of the family, including himself.

Louis hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off him the whole night.

His brother’s fiancé.

Fuck, he needs some coffee.

Louis rolls off the air mattress, his knees cracking as he hoists himself to his feet using Ernie’s bed post. He smiles down at his little brother, still dead to the world after all the excitement of the past couple days. Louis bends over him, tugging his comforter back up around his shoulders and gently ruffling his hair.

Mindful of the fact that everyone else in the house still seems to be sleeping, Louis slips out of Ernie’s room quietly, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He pads down the staircase, the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting in from the kitchen.

Thank Christ for automatic coffee machines.

The machine clicks off just as he enters the kitchen. Louis finds his favorite Yankees mug in the cabinet and takes it over to the fridge, getting the milk carton out and pouring a splash into the bottom. He grabs the sugar bowl from the cabinet above the coffeemaker, adding a spoonful to the milk and then leaving the dish out on the counter for whoever happens to wake up next. (His mom, most likely.) Finally, he pours coffee into his mug, the rich aroma making him feel more human already as he stirs.

Tossing the spoon in the sink, he looks around for something to munch on. He doesn’t want to ruin the big family breakfast they always have before heading to mass, but he’s feeling a bit peckish. His eyes light up when he spots the tin of Harry’s gingerbread cookies on the counter. _Jackpot._ The lid pops open easily and Louis plucks one from the top of the pile, marveling there are any leftover from the night before. He takes a sip of coffee and then nibbles at the cookie, humming appreciatively as its spicy flavor complements the strong flavor of the coffee perfectly.

Louis hears someone rustling around in the foyer and goes out to investigate. A smile tugs at his lips as he sees Harry, all bundled up in his coat, scarf, and Green Bay Packers beanie, struggling with the second lock on the front door.

“Morning.”

“Jesus,” Harry startles, dropping the shopping bag holding his new sweater and his pair of Christmas pajamas. He whirls around, his green eyes wide and his gloved hand pressed to his chest. “You scared the shit out of me, Louis.”

“Sorry,” Louis replies, taking a sip of coffee and peering at Harry over the brim of his mug. “Were you just going to leave without saying goodbye?”

Harry’s cheeks turn a pretty pink as he crouches down to grab his bag.

“No...I mean yes...I guess I was?” Harry babbles. “But I left a note?”

“We’re all going to mass to light a candle for Liam,” Louis says easily, leaning against the bannister as he sips his coffee. “I just figured you would be coming with us is all.”

“Oh, um, that sounds nice, but I can’t,” Harry flounders, not meeting Louis’ eyes. “I have to work.”

“That’s too bad,” Louis says, studying Harry intently.

Something feels off about him and Louis can’t quite put his finger on it.

“Yeah,” Harry replies, chewing on his plush bottom lip nervously as he finally meets Louis’ eyes, looking away again just as quickly. He shuffles back and forth on his feet, “I should...I should go. It was, um, it was nice to meet you, Louis. Please tell everyone else how much I enjoyed last night.”

Harry turns back to the door, fumbling with the tricky lock, his gloved fingers slipping on the smooth metal.

“Here,” Louis chuckles, striding over to Harry, stepping into his space. His arm brushes Harry’s chest as he reaches past him, expertly jiggling the lock and cracking the door open. “It gets stuck.”

Harry looks at him like a startled deer.

“Th-thanks,” he stammers, pulling the door open wider and stepping outside. “Um. Bye.”

Why in the hell is Harry so jumpy? Louis noticed it last night too, chalking it up to him being nervous about meeting the whole family for the first time. But there’s no reason he should be so jittery still, not after the way they’d embraced him wholeheartedly the night before.

Right?

“Harry, I want you to know–” Louis starts.

“Louis,” Harry interrupts, turning back around, his breath puffing out in the cold air and his big green eyes a little wild. “Look. I know that I–I mean, I guess you probably–”

“Hey, hey,” Louis soothes, holding a hand up. “I was just going to say–”

“Hmmm?”

“Welcome to the family.”

“Oh,” Harry says, his shoulders slumping. “Thank you.”

“See you around, then?”

Harry nods dumbly. Louis gives him a little wave as he closes the door. He clicks the locks back into place, sighing heavily and leaning back on the door.

What the fuck was that?

********

“...that You may hold Your healing hand over them and guide them through their illnesses. We also pray for the families of those who are sick and suffering. We pray that their faith in Christ will help keep them strong and in good spirits. We ask that Your healing presence is felt by Liam Payne. We pray to the Lord–”

“Lord, hear our prayer,” Louis mutters softly, taking his seat on the pew between Geoff and Lottie.

“O God, You call us to live as one family,” Father Callaghan continues.

“So, Harry,” Louis states quietly, leaning forward and looking at his mother. “What do we know about him?”

“He’s your brother’s fiancé,” Jay says simply. “And he’s lovely. Why do you ask?”

Louis barely refrains from rolling his eyes. Sometimes his mother can be too trusting for her own good. And something’s been niggling in the back of his brain ever since his encounter with Harry that morning.

“We ask this through Christ our Lord…”

“I’m just saying,” Louis explains, “that if Liam was actually getting married, you would think he would have taken out a full-page spread in the Times Lifestyle section.”

“We read the Post,” Geoff says, getting to his feet again as the congregation rises en masse.

“Amen,” Father Callaghan finishes.

“Amen,” Louis echoes, crossing himself and then sitting back down.

“What are you getting at, Louis?” Jay asks curiously.

“Just...why did he sneak out this morning?” Louis presses. “He was acting like he was about to do the walk of shame or something. It was weird.”

“He has a job,” Jay states, rolling her eyes. “He had to work, he told us that yesterday. Honestly, Louis.”

“Yeah, honestly, Louis,” Lottie snickers from his other side.

Louis elbows her in the ribs, not even deigning to look at her.

“I like mass better when it’s in Latin,” Olive pipes up from the other side of Lottie. “It’s nicer when you don’t know what they’re saying.”

“...Brothers and sisters, listen to the words of the second letter of Paul to the Corinthians…”

“Did you get everything settled with the Himmelstein estate?” Geoff mutters, turning to Louis.

“Yep,” Louis affirms.

“Did you get the Petersons?”

“Yep,” Louis nods, standing again. “I signed them last week.”

“And the Bradshaws?”

“Got them too,” Louis confirms. “I’m on top of it, Dad, promise.”

“...For as Christ's sufferings overflow to us, so through Christ does our encouragement also overflow…”

“What about the Cowell estate?” Geoff questions.  

“The Bradshaws took too long to sign,” Louis sighs, shaking his head as he sits.

“Aw, come on, Louis–” Geoff groans loudly.

“Geoff!” Jay hisses as an old man gives them a dirty look over his shoulder. “We’re in church!”

“That’s a _really_ big estate, Louis,” Geoff sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“I know, I know, and it’s not a done deal for the other guys yet,” Louis replies defensively. “I lost three days being snowed in upstate, you know. The phone lines were down for two of them.”

“I realize that,” Geoff says, patting his knee. “I do. I know you’re doing your best and you’re working really hard. It’s just that you’re practically running the business now, son–”

“That’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about–” Louis starts.

“That’s enough with the business talk, you two,” Jay orders. “You can talk about all of this later.”

“Talk about it now,” Lottie mutters. “He can’t kill you in church.”

“Would you please pipe down?” the old man finally growls.

“Hey, be nice, pal,” Louis snaps. “We’re in church!”

“You’re disrupting the mass!”

“Who made you the Pope?” Geoff fires back, looking at Louis out of the corner of his eye and smiling conspiratorially. Louis snickers, their little spat forgotten.

That talk about the business can wait.

The old man harrumphs, turning back around.

“...Our hope for you is firm, for we know that as you share in the sufferings, you also share in the encouragement…”

“Hey Mom, I was thinking of swinging by Liam’s apartment after lunch,” Louis says. “Grab his robe and some of his pajamas and toiletries.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Jay smiles. “Things that will make him feel more at home will be so nice.”

“Can you think of anything else he’d need?”

“I think that should be all,” Jay replies. “Lottie is gonna get the kids home, so we’ll split up after lunch and meet you at the hospital? Niall’s coming too. I should give Harry a call, see what his plans are for the afternoon.”

“I can do that,” Louis says innocently. “You’ve got enough on your plate. I just need his number.”

“That would be so helpful, Boo, thank you,” Jay smiles. “You two should get to know each other better anyway.”

“And now please stand as Lector Wright leads us in a reading,” Father Callaghan announces.

“I don’t know how Oliver Wright was made a lector,” Olive grumbles as they stand. “I know for a fact he smokes marijuana.”

Lottie and Fizzy giggle; Louis bites back a grin as Geoff pulls his little notebook from the inside pocket of his blazer. He rips out a page and hands it to Louis.

“Harry’s number,” Geoff says. “Thanks for helping out.”

“No problem,” Louis replies, glancing down at the piece of paper, raising his eyebrows when he sees not only a phone number but an address in Hell’s Kitchen, not terribly far from the hospital. He pulls out his wallet, sliding the piece of paper inside.

Maybe he’ll just pay his brother’s fiancé a visit instead.

********

Harry polishes off the last of his grilled cheese sandwich, brushing the crumbs off his fingers. He places his plate on the coffee table, pulling his blanket up around him as he snuggles back into the couch. For what feels like the millionth time since he got home from work, Harry’s eyes fall on the box that contains all of Liam’s possessions from the day of the accident; he’s been avoiding it, wanting to respect Liam’s privacy, but at the same time, the curiosity is overwhelming him.

“I mean, they gave it to me,” Harry says to Velma, who’s sunning herself by the window. “It wouldn’t hurt to look, would it?”

Velma looks at him, the judgment clear as day on her face.

“I know, I know,” Harry sighs, pulling the box onto his lap. “I’ve been saying that a lot lately. Just add it to the list.”

Liam’s coat and scarf sit at the top of the pile in the box; Harry removes them, followed by his soiled navy blue suit and tie, wrinkled white button-down, and shoes. The really interesting stuff rests at the bottom. Harry opens Liam’s wallet, his eyes going wide at the amount of cash nestled inside. He gives a fleeting thought to the goons who mugged Liam, thankful that they only got away with his bag of Christmas gifts. He studies Liam’s driver’s license picture, once again marveling at how the man never seems to take a bad photograph. No one should look that good against a washed-out gray backdrop, Harry thinks as he pictures his own driver’s license, his hair having been at an unfortunate in-between phase. It’s not fair, really.

Flipping through the rest of the wallet, Harry smiles as he finds an insert of photographs, an old snapshot of Liam, Louis, and Niall at what looks to be their high school graduation smiling back at him. He turns the small, plastic page, admiring the pictures; some of them posed, professional shots (he plays tennis?), others candid shots of him skiing and and on the porch of a beach house in what Harry guesses is the Hamptons. Not that he’s ever been to the Hamptons. He runs his finger down the last one, admiring Liam’s surely soft lips, when it occurs to him that all of the pictures were of Liam.  

Huh.

No family photos. Harry knows that he is the last person who has any place to judge right now, but that’s a little vain, isn’t it?

He sets the wallet aside, peering back in the box. Liam’s keys are in there, along with a crumpled paper bag. His brow crinkles as he picks the bag up, its weight strangely familiar. He dumps the contents on the couch, gasping when he realizes it’s a can of cat food.

“Velma!” Harry exclaims. “He has a cat! He’s a cat person!”

Velma meows from her perch, hopping down and padding over to her bowl, sniffing at the food Harry had put down as soon as he got home. She takes a delicate bite and looks up at Harry, meowing again.

“Oh my God,” Harry gasps, his hand flying to his hair. _“He has a cat._ Oh, poor kitty! Velma, I gotta go.”

Harry scrambles to his feet, grabbing the can of food and Liam’s keys. He double checks Liam’s driver’s license for his address and then scurries into his little kitchen, grabbing a couple cans of Velma’s food and tossing them in a grocery bag, just for good measure.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Harry asks Velma, crouching down and scratching between her ears. “His cat is probably so hungry.”

Velma meows in response, nuzzling into his palm before going back to her food.

“That’s my girl,” Harry grins. He bundles up and grabs his own set of keys. “I’ll be back later.”

********

Louis taps his brakes lightly as he turns down 47th Street, peering over his steering wheel to look for both Harry’s building and a parking spot. Spotting the latter first, he expertly maneuvers his pickup into the parallel space and shuts the engine off. He hops out onto the curb, locking the truck and pulling the lapels of his shearling-lined denim jacket tighter around his body, momentarily wishing he’d gone with his puffy down coat instead. Mindful of the ice patches still dotting the sidewalk, Louis walks towards Tenth Avenue, eyes trained on building numbers.

When he reaches Harry’s building, he pauses on the sidewalk as he takes stock. It’s what most realtors would call “charming,” the pre-war building a little run-down, but definitely not lacking character. A little courtyard joins the three buildings, a frozen-over fountain in the middle. There’s a man who looks to be around his age outside building 455, taking down some Christmas decorations. Louis tries to keep his face neutral at the sight of his truly hideous polyester jacket patterned with purple, white, red, and black zig-zags and a matching purple scarf around his neck. He’s forgone a hat, as his dark hair is teased sky high.

Louis shakes his head and strides over to the entryway, scanning the list of buzzers for Harry’s name.

“Can I help you, buddy?” the man asks, his New York accent thick.

“Oh, hi,” Louis says casually. “Do you live here?”

“Live here?” the man scoffs, flipping the tail of his scarf over his shoulder. “I own the building.”

“Really?” Louis asks doubtfully, arching an eyebrow.

“Okay, so my pop technically owns the place,” the man amends, wrapping a strand of Christmas lights over his elbow. “But that’s like the same thing as owning it myself, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure,” Louis nods. “So...I guess you know the man in apartment 201, then?”

“Harry,” the man says, a smug smile curling his lips.

“Yeah, Harry Styles,” Louis confirms. “Do you know him?”

“Know him,” the man laughs. “Please. I’m dating him.”

“Excuse me, what?” Louis asks, taken aback. “Can you repeat that?”

“I’m dating him,” the man repeats. “He’s the best-looking guy in the building, you know?”

Well, fuck.  

Louis _knew_ there was something off about Harry. He knew it. But Harry cheating on Liam? That thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Louis says coolly, extending his hand towards the man. “I didn’t get your name?”

********

The elevator dings for the twenty-sixth floor and the doors open with a quiet hiss. Harry tries not to gape too much at his surroundings, worried that the other people in the elevator will smell the imposter on him.

“Excuse me,” Harry mutters, scooting around an elderly woman in a fur and huge diamond earrings.

He steps out into the hall, the elevator doors behind him closing just as quietly as they opened. Harry pulls his beanie off, stuffing it in his pocket as he looks around, trying to figure out where to go. The walls are painted a pearly gray with a darker gray trim, platinum light fixtures provide soft lighting, the navy blue carpet is plush under his feet, and an expensive-looking flower arrangement sits on a table opposite the elevator, a large mirror hanging above it.

Jesus. Harry knew Liam was rich, but Liam is _rich._

After studying a sign indicating the layout of the floor, Harry turns left, walking down the hallway. Apartment G is at the very end of the hall, its dark brown door ever so slightly intimidating. Hell, even the garbage chute in this building is fancy, Harry notes as he passes the discreet little door, its handle matching the light fixtures. (Even rich people need to take out their trash. Or, more likely, have someone else take their trash out for them.) He fishes Liam’s keys out of his pocket, studying them all intently as he tries to figures out _which_ key opens the apartment. Immediately dismissing the small gold mailbox key and the one with the Mercedes logo on it, Harry narrows his options to four. He chews his lip, eliminating two flat keys, guessing those are likely for Liam’s office building.

And then there were two.

Both keys look pretty similar, so Harry just picks one, sticking it into the lock. The key goes easily, but nothing happens when he tries to turn it. Thankful that no one else is there to see the suspicious guy fumbling with a set of keys, Harry takes a deep breath, sliding the last key into the lock. The lock turns easily this time, and Harry pushes the door open, telling himself he’s not trespassing, he’s just here to take care of Liam’s poor cat.

“Ho-ly shit,” Harry breathes as he steps inside the apartment, closing the door behind him.

The apartment is massive, is the thing, probably close to three times as big as Harry’s little one-bedroom in Hell’s Kitchen. One side of the foyer has a hallway, leading down to what he assumes is a bedroom, the other side opening up into a large living room with an adjoining dining area. Harry gapes at the giant windows offering an impressive view of Central Park; there’s even a small, meticulously landscaped terrace. But as impressive as the apartment is, there is something chilly about it and the immaculate state it’s in. Liam’s decor is minimalist and monochromatic: cold, pale gray walls, spotless white carpet and couches, accented with black end tables and artsy black and white photographs on the wall. The only splashes of color come from several bright vases strategically placed throughout the room, showcasing exotic-looking orchids, the color of the water in the bottom of the vase dyed to match the turquoise flowers.

Harry can’t help but think of the Paynes’ home in Astoria, practically bursting at the seams, so lovingly _lived in_ that he felt instantly welcome there. Harry feels incredibly out of place here, in an apartment that feels more like a museum than a home; it offers very little insight into who Liam is, what he likes and dislikes, how he spends his free time. But at the same time, Harry feels like it tells him everything.

Harry wonders, and not for the first time, how in the hell a warm and rambunctious family like the Paynes managed to produce a son with a home like this, a son who doesn’t even come home for Christmas. Harry can’t reconcile this Liam with the Liam he sees at the subway station nearly every day, with the kind eyes and the beautiful smile. It’s a sobering reminder that he doesn’t really know Liam at all.

There aren’t even any cat toys anywhere?

Right. The cat. Harry digs in his grocery bag, walking all the way into the living room.

“Kitty?” he calls. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.”

No sign of the cat. He walks around the corner that separates the living room from the dining room.

“Kitty? Rich kitty? Where are you hiding, rich kitty?”

Harry wanders into Liam’s kitchen, flicking the light on. It’s gorgeous, with state-of-the-art silver appliances and gleaming granite countertops. He’d kill for a kitchen like this, imagining all the baking he could do, his own kitchen so cramped he has to balance mixing bowls on top of the fridge. Of course, it doesn’t look like Liam has any sort of baking equipment, but he can dream, can’t he? He rifles through the drawers, in search of a can opener; he finds one all the way in the back of the second drawer and grabs it.

“Come here, honey,” Harry calls, opening the can. Not seeing a dish anywhere, Harry grabs a small bowl out of a cabinet, dumping the food in it. “I have food for you! Aren’t you hungry? I know you’re hungry, baby, come on out!”

Harry hears a thump from the other side of the swinging door on the opposite end of the kitchen.

“Kitty?” he asks eagerly, shoving the door open.

The door collides hard with something solid.

“What the fuck?” a male voice yelps.

Oh, shit.

Harry gasps as he catches the door on the back swing, revealing Louis Tomlinson standing in the doorway, his hand pressed over his left cheekbone, his eyes wide with stunned shock.

“Oh my God, Louis!” Harry exclaims. “I’m so sorry.”

“You know, Styles,” Louis grunts, his hand sliding from his reddened face. “I’m beginning to think you might have it out for me or something. Nice aim.”

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Harry says a little frantically. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, let me get you something to put on that.”

Harry scrambles over to Liam’s freezer, desperately hoping that Liam has some frozen peas or _something_ that Louis can put over his cheek. He yanks the freezer door open, met with the sight of just a half-full bottle of vodka and an entire shelf of pre-packed pints of Peanut Butter and Chocolate Baskin Robbins ice cream.

“How did you get in here?” Louis asks. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here.”

“Um,” Harry fumbles, grabbing a dish towel from where it hangs by the sink. He pulls open the drawer for the ice maker, grabbing a handful of ice and dumping it in the center of the towel, folding up all the fabric around it. He turns to Louis, stepping into his space without even thinking about it, pressing the makeshift compress to his cheek. “Key?”

“A key?” Louis asks, his nimble fingers brushing over Harry’s hand as he takes over the compress. He shifts it over his eye, peering up at Harry with his other one. “You must stay here a lot then, yeah?”

“I mean, yeah?” Harry replies, suddenly aware of how close they’re standing, backing away towards the counter. “We’re...we’re engaged? I should have a key, right?”

Louis looks at him appraisingly, his lips pursed, saying nothing.

“Anyway, I needed to feed the cat,” Harry says lamely.

Louis removes the compress, narrowing his sharp blue eyes at him.

“Liam doesn’t have a cat,” Louis states, a hint of accusation in his voice. “He hates cats. Always has.”

Right on cue, a large white Persian cat with a pink rhinestone-studded collar rounds the corner, her tail swishing as she meows loudly. Louis’ jaw drops; Harry blows out a big breath, turning his back to him as he scoops the cat into his arms.

“There you are, honey,” Harry coos, surreptitiously checking the silver heart-shaped tag on her collar as he pets her soft fur. “Oh, Fluffy, you must be so hungry, right? I bet you are.”

Fluffy meows, hopping out of his arms and onto the counter, trotting over to the bowl of food and diving right in.

“I’m so sorry I forgot to feed you,” Harry murmurs to the cat, stroking her back and scratching between her ears. “Forgive me, baby.”

Harry looks up at Louis, who watches him completely dumbfounded. He cocks an eyebrow and stands to his full height, looking at Louis challengingly.

“You were saying?”

The phone rings.

Harry freezes.

“Are you going to get that?” Louis asks coolly after the second ring, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow in return. “Since you stay here so often and all?”

“Nah,” Harry defers, turning back to Fluffy. “I’m just...gonna let the machine get it.”

Louis harrumphs, a knowing smile on his face as he squeezes past Harry, coming closer to him than is probably necessary. Harry watches Louis saunter over to the cordless phone; their eyes lock as Louis lifts the receiver.

“Payne residence,” Louis answers, his gaze unwavering. “Louis speaking.”

Harry’s palms are sweating; he dries them off on Fluffy’s coat, long white hairs sticking to his skin. He wonders how in the hell Liam keeps the apartment so clean with a fucking Persian cat having free run of the place.

He would bet his entire bank account that Liam has a maid service probably three times a week.

“Oh,” Louis says. “He’s...he’s right here.”

Louis extends the receiver towards him, a surprised expression on his face.

“It’s for you.”

What the fuck?

“Thanks,” Harry says smugly, taking the phone from him.

Why is he being smug? He’s a lying liar who lies.

Louis wanders a little farther into the living room, apparently trying to give him some privacy, but not so much privacy that he can’t overhear Harry’s end of the conversation.

“Hello?” Harry asks tentatively.

“Mr. Styles? It’s Maggie over at Mount Sinai West, how are you?”

Oh my God, Liam’s awake, isn’t he?

“Fine? Is...is Liam okay?” Harry asks tremulously, inhaling sharply.

Louis looks up in concern.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry, I scared you, didn’t I?” Maggie says, her voice soothing. “He’s doing just fine, still sleeping like a lamb I’m afraid.”

Harry exhales, gesturing to Louis in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. Louis nods, no longer even trying to pretend he isn’t listening.

“I was just calling to see if you wanted to come in and donate blood? Most people like to donate when their loved one is with us in the ICU, it’s something small they can do to help out. Should we be expecting you?”

“Sure,” Harry says, looking over at Louis. “Thanks. I’ll be there. Bye.”

“What was that about?” Louis asks. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, raking his fingers through his curls. “That was the hospital. They’re inviting friends and family to come give blood.”

“We should go together,” Louis states with a gleam in his eye. “I was heading there anyway. Just grabbing some stuff for Liam and then meeting my parents and a few of the others there.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry says casually. “Let me just...take care of a few more things for the cat first?”

Louis nods, turning to head towards Liam’s bedroom. Harry takes a deep breath, walking back into the kitchen. He grabs another bowl from the cabinet, filling it with water and placing it down by Fluffy’s food.

“Where’s your litter box?” he murmurs to her quietly, scratching behind her ears. “Help me out here, baby.”

Fluffy just meows in response.

“Thanks,” Harry huffs. “Helpful.”

Harry heads back to the front of the apartment, praying he’s right when he shoves open the door to the guest bathroom.

“Jackpot,” Harry breathes, spying the litter box in the corner. He opens the cabinet under the sink, congratulating himself when he finds a container of kitty litter. He changes the box quickly and knots it all up a small garbage bag, planning to toss it in the garbage chute on their way out.

Harry goes back out into the living room, where he finds Louis waiting for him patiently, a Coach duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

“All good?” Louis asks.

“Yeah,” Harry replies, pulling his beanie out of his pocket and shoving it over his curls. “How’re we getting there? Cab?”

“Oh, I drove my truck,” Louis replies breezily. “But I’m thinking we should just take Liam’s car.”

Louis looks at him expectantly. Harry feels little beads of sweat dotting his forehead under his beanie, certain that Louis is fucking testing him.

“I mean, you do know where his car is, right?”

Yep. He’s testing him. Christ. Think fast.

“It’s down in the garage,” Harry hedges. “But you know Liam and that car, right? First of all, he never drives it in the city; he’s too afraid of it getting damaged. Secondly, I’ve never driven it; he doesn’t let anyone drive it but him.”

Louis looks at him, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’re not trying to get me in trouble with my fiancé, are you Louis?” Harry asks innocently, batting his eyes. “He’ll know one of us has driven it. You know he will.”

“Well, you know I had to try,” Louis chuckles, pulling his car keys out of his pocket, twirling them on his index finger. “I’ve been dying to get behind the wheel of that car ever since he bought it. Let’s go give some blood, shall we?”

********

The ride to the hospital is awkward, Harry too nervous to say anything to Louis, other than a lame comment about the traffic just to fill the silence. He’s relieved when Maggie, the pretty young nurse who had called him, greets them on the fifth floor, ushering them into an exam room just down the hall from Liam’s room. Once they are settled in adjacent beds, Maggie hands them rubber balls to squeeze in order to get their blood flowing, prompting Louis to crack a stupid joke about ball handling. Harry giggles in spite of his unease, never one to resist a good dick joke.

Maggie provides an excellent distraction from Louis during the donation, chattering on with Harry about the latest season of _The Real World_ and debating favorite cast members with him. (Pedro. Obviously it’s Pedro.) Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Louis watching him, studying him with an inquisitive gaze, never getting involved in the conversation, just observing.

It’s unnerving.

“Hey, we’ll have to get your picture for the mantel,” Louis finally says as the nurses work on removing the needles from their arms once their donation bags are full.

“What?” Harry asks, wincing as the needle slides from his arm.

“Sorry,” Maggie apologizes, placing a cotton ball over the little wound in the crick of his elbow, securing it with some surgical tape. “Elevate your arm for me, please.”

“A picture of me?” Harry asks Louis, leaning forward to look at him as he follows Maggie’s instructions.

“No, of you and Liam,” Louis answers as a second nurse does the same thing to him, folding his arm up once she secures the bandage.

“Oh, you really don’t have to,” Harry deflects. “I’ll ruin everything, I’m not photogenic at all.”

“I doubt that,” Louis mutters under his breath.

Harry looks at him curiously, wondering if Louis actually means what Harry thinks he means.

“Here, hon,” Maggie says, handing him a paper cup of orange juice. “I need you to sit here and sip this, so you don’t get woozy.”

“So when did you and Liam start seeing each other, then?” Louis asks. “I’m still a little confused by this whole timeline.”

“October second,” Harry says definitively, having worked out his story the day before.

“October second,” Louis muses, his brows furrowed. “That’s...that’s fast.”

“You have no idea,” Harry replies, knocking back his orange juice as if it were a tequila shot.

He stands, wobbling on his feet a little bit. He’s got to get out of here. Louis is asking too many leading questions.

“Harry!” Maggie exclaims, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “You’re not ready to go!”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he assures her, walking towards the door unsteadily.

“No, no, that’s really fast!” Louis says incredulously, waving away his cup of juice and scrambling to his feet.

“Hey, I’m not done with you yet,” the other nurse protests. “Sir, you need to drink this.”

“That’s a fast engagement,” Louis says, ignoring her. “That’s not even three months fast.”

“Love at first sight, remember?” Harry says over his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Louis argues with the nurse. “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m–oh–”

Harry hears the sound of Louis hitting the floor. He hesitates, knowing he should probably go back and make sure Louis is okay, but he keeps walking, hoping he can say goodbye to Jay and the rest of the family before Louis can catch up to him and blow this whole mess wide open.

Because somewhere between Jay’s chocolate cake and Olive’s eggnog, Harry decided he wasn’t quite ready for all of this to be over.

Not yet.

Harry hastens down the hall, not at all surprised by the chatter he hears coming from Liam’s room. He lingers by the door, smiling softly as he watches the group in the room ensconced in a debate.

“I just want to know what he’s got a TV for,” Geoff says from his perch next to Niall on the empty bed opposite Liam.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Jay asks, not even looking up from her knitting.

“I think every room has one,” Niall says helpfully. “It’s pretty standard.”

“But why?” Geoff presses. “He’s in a coma, for Christ’s sake!”

“Pretty sure it’s probably meant more for us,” Fizzy says mildly, laying down a card on Liam’s tray table, which Olive promptly picks up, giggling to herself. “Gotta have something to keep us entertained, right?”

“I’m just saying–”

“Hey, guys,” Harry interrupts with a little wave. “I’m gonna head on out, but I wanted to say goodbye.”

“But you just got here,” Olive protests with a little pout.

“Yes, Harry, stay and visit with us for a while,” Jay implores, holding up her knitting needles, the makings of a scarf hanging from them. “I want to measure this scarf on you anyway.”

“Harry,” Geoff says, turning to him. “Why do _you_ think Liam has a TV?”

Harry should have known a quick getaway is never an option when it comes to the Paynes.

“Oh, um,” Harry says stepping fully into the room. “I think it may be kinda like what Jay said this morning? Like coma patients need to hear voices, yeah? So like...we can turn the TV on and Liam will think there are people here with him, even when we’re not.”

“Then why not just get him a radio?” Olive asks. “I like music better.”

“Maybe you can sing to him then, Mom,” Jay smiles, going back to her knitting.

“Do you think they have HBO here?” Geoff asks, turning to the TV. “Probably not? This hospital may be nice, but is it HBO nice?”

“I do wonder if I could bring my VCR and we could hook it up,” Niall muses, leaning forward to look at Liam. “How would you feel about a movie marathon, Payno? We haven’t had one in ages. It would be just like old times.”

“Maybe Harry knows his favorite movie,” Louis suddenly pipes up from behind him, entering the room, his face still a little pale.

“What?” Harry asks uneasily.

“What’s Liam’s favorite movie, Harry?” Louis asks, a determined glint in his eyes.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Um, it’s–”

“Oh, man, we haven’t watched _Batman_ in ages,” Niall jumps in.

Huh. Niall always seems to save him.  

Harry doesn’t have time to examine that thought, too distracted by Louis giving Niall a withering look before he turns back to Harry, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Who is Liam’s favorite character on _Seinfeld_ ,” Louis challenges, his eyebrow raised.

Oh, God.

“Kramer,” Harry replies, taking a shot in the dark, matching Louis’ challenging stance.

“Kramer! Ha!” Louis cries triumphantly, pointing at him.

Well, it was nice while it lasted?

Harry starts searching for an explanation, but seconds later, Louis’ face falls.

“Well, Kramer’s everybody’s favorite.”

“I’ve always been a fan of Elaine, myself,” Geoff interjects. “That episode where–”

“What’s his favorite ice cream?” Louis presses, taking another step towards Harry.

“Baskin Robbins,” Harry answers confidently, recalling the stash in Liam’s freezer.

“What fl–”

“Peanut Butter and Chocolate,” Harry cuts in smugly, stepping closer, his eyes trained on Louis.

“Okay, wise guy,” Louis clips, closing the gap between him, spots of red rising on his cheeks. “Tell me his favorite baseball team then.”

“New York,” Harry replies. “Obviously.”

“Yankees or Mets?” Louis clarifies, practically nose to nose with Harry, heat radiating from his body.  

“What in the hell is going on here?” Geoff finally asks.

“Did it get hot in here all the sudden?” Fizzy quips.

“Why all the questions, Louis?” Jay asks, setting her knitting aside, her eyes concerned.

“Don’t ask me,” Louis shrugs. “Ask his boyfriend.”

“What?” Harry squawks.

“Louis William Tomlinson,” Jay scolds, taking Liam’s hand. “That is _not_ funny and you know it.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, Mom!” Louis insists. “I don’t mean _this_ boyfriend–”

“Then who do you mean?” Harry asks, genuinely curious. “I don’t–”

“Nick Grimshaw,” Louis states, his blue eyes icy.

Harry bursts out laughing, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“Nick Jr.?” Harry asks, giggling through his fingers. “You think Grimmy’s my _boyfriend?”_

“Yes,” Louis replies, jutting his chin. “Nicholas. Grimshaw. Junior. He said you were...intimate.”

“Yeah, he also said he invented the Discman, Louis,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. “He’s delusional.”

“He seemed perfectly lucid when I spoke to him today,” Louis says stubbornly.

“Oh, dear,” Olive moans, her hand coming to her chest. “Oh, dear.”

“Mom?” Jay cries in alarm, scrambling to her feet and hurrying around the bed to her mother’s side, taking her hand. “Mom, are you okay?”

Jesus Christ, James was right. He _is_ going kill sweet, sassy Olive and he’s going to go straight to hell.

“Do you see what you just did,” Geoff accuses, pointing at Louis.

“What did I do?” Louis protests. “Harry’s the one who’s lying here, not me!”

“If Harry wanted to prove that he’s with Liam,” Olive says to Jay. “He’d prove it. I know he would.”

Six pairs of eyes turn to Harry, looking at him expectantly. Louis smirks at him, his blue eyes sparkling, almost daring him to say something wrong.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Harry thinks, smiling back at them, hoping to God the terror isn’t showing in his eyes. What is he going to say? Liam is a complete stranger, there is literally nothing he could say that would prove any different. He doesn’t know anyth–

Wait.

Harry takes a deep breath, straightening his spine, hoping that one day Liam might forgive him for what he’s about to do. (If he’s even around for Liam to forgive, that is.)

“Liam has...one testicle,” Harry says, trying to keep his voice even.

“What?” Louis barks. “Liam does _not_ have only one ball. No way!”

“Way!” Harry affirms, his confidence growing as he sees the shocked expressions on the Paynes’ faces. “Back in October, right after we met, actually, there was an accident.”

“An accident?” Geoff asks with a pained expression on his face.

“He was playing basketball with this douchebag coworker of his,” Harry explains. “The guy, ah, the guy had a pencil in his back pocket and Liam…”

Harry trails off, gesturing towards Liam, letting the Paynes connect the rest of the dots.

“Oh my God,” Fizzy moans. “Ew, ew, ew.”

“Well, fuck,” Niall mutters, cupping his dick protectively.

Louis looks at Harry, then at Liam, then back at Harry; Harry just chews his lip, his face hot.

“Well, then,” Olive says plainly. “Someone’s got to look. See if Harry here is telling the truth.”

“Don’t look at me,” Fizzy says, backing away from the bed.

“Me either,” Louis and Niall say simultaneously.

“Geoff,” Jay says expectantly, looking at her husband. “You changed his diapers, you do it.”

“Yeah, I know, but,” Geoff fumbles, his face beet red. “There are just some things that shouldn’t have to happen between a father and a son, you know? And you’re...you’re a nurse. You’re used to this kind of thing.”

“Oh, all right,” Jay sighs, rolling her eyes. “I’ll do it. I’m a professional after all.”

“Just think of him as one of your patients,” Geoff says helpfully.

“You _do_ know I’m an OB-GYN nurse, right, honey?”

Jay reaches for Liam’s blanket. Olive clasps Liam’s hand in hers, stroking it soothingly.

“Mom!” Fizzy gasps, covering her eyes. “Oh my God!”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Jay says to Liam, kissing his forehead. “This will only take one second.”

Harry holds his breath as Jay lifts the blanket, reaching down under it. He can see her lifting Liam’s hospital gown under the blanket, trying to provide her son with as much privacy as she can. Almost as quickly as she reaches down, she withdraws her hand, pulling the blanket back up Liam’s chest. Jay clicks her tongue as she pumps the hand sanitizer bottle next to Liam’s bed, squirting out the clear gel into her palm and rubbing her hands together. Ignoring everyone’s expectant stares, Jay smooths out the wrinkles of Liam’s blanket, giving his chest a little pat.

“Well?” Geoff finally asks impatiently.

“One testicle,” Jay confirms, primly brushing her long hair over her shoulder as she settles back in her chair. “Just like Harry said.”

Harry exhales slowly.

“You should apologize to Harry, Louis,” Jay says sternly, picking up her knitting. “That was uncalled for.”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Louis says softly, his cheeks pink.

“It’s okay,” Harry replies, equally soft.

Harry looks down at his feet, scuffing his shoes on the white linoleum floor. He knows he should feel better about having bested Louis, but instead he just feels pretty shitty, his web of lies growing more and more complex as he gets more and more attached to this family. He chances a glance over at Louis, looking up at him through his eyelashes; Louis looks equally chagrined, offering him a tiny smile as a peace offering. Harry smiles in return, a sense of relief rushing through him.

“Well, look at it this way,” Olive says, breaking the tension in the room. “At least he has more room in his jockey shorts?”

Louis suddenly barks a loud, bright laugh, tossing his head back, his hand on his stomach. Harry’s so startled by it that he honks a laugh in return, which just makes Louis laugh harder. Fizzy joins them, a giggle bursting forth from her lips; Niall follows quickly behind, adding his hyena-like cackle to the mix. Pretty soon, they are all laughing, even Jay, who holds out the longest, fighting a smile as she focuses on knitting her scarf.

They laugh until tears are rolling down their faces and stitches are burning at their sides, the previous tension completely forgotten. Harry can’t remember the last time he laughed this hard and he can’t believe how long he’s gone without it. He feels all warm and gooey inside, like he truly belongs.

He refuses to think how this is all temporary, just allowing himself to live in the moment.

So this must be what it’s like to have a family.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry begs off another family dinner at the Paynes’ that night, promising that he will join them for Jay’s famous pot roast the day after tomorrow. He’s ensconced on his couch, thumbing through the menu for his local Chinese place even though he knows he’s just going to wind up ordering chow mein like he always does, when there’s a knock at the door. Velma shoots up, hissing at the door, the fur on her neck standing on end.

“Baby,” Harry soothes the cat, stroking her back. “It’s just the door.”

Velma hops off the couch, trotting into Harry’s room, surely to hide under his bed. Harry hoists himself to his feet as a second knock pounds.

“Who is it?” Harry calls as he makes his way towards the door.

“What gives?” Nick demands, his accent thicker than usual.

Harry sighs, summoning up all of his energy as he swings the door open. Nick leans against the doorframe, his loud red, black, and white oversized cardigan clashing spectacularly with his printed button-down. He’s also inexplicably wearing a pair of round sunglasses. At night. Indoors.

“Hi, Grimmy,” Harry greets him, forcing a bright smile. “What can I do for you?”

“You stood me up,” Nick answers, flipping up the front of the sunglasses, revealing his narrowed eyes under regular lenses.

“What did I stand you up for?” Harry asks patiently.

“Our date,” Nick states, giving him the hand and waltzing into Harry’s apartment as if he owns the place.

Which, technically he kind of does? But still.

“The Ice Capades!” Nick clarifies, when he sees the blank look on Harry’s face. “Not only did I have to eat the cost of your ticket, I had to watch Nancy Kerrigan skate all by myself!”

“Nick, it’s been a crazy couple of days,” Harry admits, massaging his temples as he closes the door. “And I’m sorry, but I never even agreed to go with you.”

“You said you’d think about it,” Nick counters, shoving up the sleeves of his cardigan.

“That’s not the same thing,” Harry groans. “You know it’s not the same thing.”

“But Harry–”

“And another thing,” Harry interrupts, holding up his hand to silence Nick. “You can’t just go around telling people we’re dating, Grimmy.”

“Who was that guy, anyway? The little fella?”

“That’s none of your concern–”

“Are you two-timing me, Harry?” Nick asks incredulously. “Is that what this is?”

“Arrrrgh,” Harry groans in frustration, “I’m not two-timing you, Nick! You know why? Because I’ve never one-timed you! We’re not dating! We never _have_ dated.”

Nick starts to protest but Harry claps his hand over his mouth as another knock sounds at the door.

“Who is it?” Harry calls.

“It’s Niall.”

“Shit,” Harry mutters. He starts to shove Nick towards his bedroom, looking back over his shoulder and crying out, “Just a second, Niall!”

“Who is _that_ guy?” Nick hisses, thankfully keeping his voice down. “How many boyfriends do you have, Harry?”

“Zero,” Harry says through clenched teeth. “Now be quiet. I mean it. And don’t scare my cat.”

Harry shuts the door in Nick’s face, and takes a deep, cleansing breath.

Whatever reason Niall has for showing up out of the blue, Harry knows it can’t be good.

“Niall!” Harry says brightly, forcing another smile as he opens the door. “To what do I owe this honor? Come in, come in.”

Jesus, Harry, be cool.

“Is this a bad time?” Niall asks as he steps inside, unwinding his scarf but not unbuttoning his navy-checked coat. “I thought I heard voices.”

“Oh,” Harry shrugs, shutting the door and pointing at the dark television. “I was just watching TV. Nothing important.”

“Good, good,” Niall says amiably, looking around and taking in the apartment.

“Um, do you want anything to drink?” Harry asks, straightening the clutter on his coffee table self-consciously. “I have some Coke in the fridge. Or I could make coffee?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Niall assures him. “I can’t stay too long anyway, but I just...listen, Harry, there’s something you need to know.”

“What’s up?” Harry asks cautiously, fighting the urge to crack his knuckles.

Niall looks at him for a moment, a gentle smile on his face.

“Christmas night,” Niall says slowly. “In all the craziness of the day, I left my cell phone at the hospital.”

Harry swallows hard, his heart starting to thump in his chest as he schools his face into what he hopes is a neutral expression.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Niall nods, his eyes somber. “Luckily they found it, so I came back there to get it. Then I went to check in on Liam, but you were already there.”

“Oh,” Harry breathes, feeling like a bucket of ice water has been poured over him. “So you–”

“Know the truth, yeah,” Niall finishes.

Harry really thinks he might vomit. Feeling his knees start to buckle, he plops down on his couch, burying his head in his hands.

“Oh, God,” he groans, peering up at Niall through his fingers. “You gotta believe me, Niall, I didn’t mean for this–j-just don’t worry, okay? I’ll tell them everything first thing in the morning, okay? I promise I will–”

“Don’t tell them a thing,” Niall interrupts, holding up a hand.

“W-what?” Harry asks, his mouth agape. “Are you serious? Niall, I can’t–”

“Look, Harry,” Niall says, sitting down next to him and patting his knee. “Remember yesterday when you said you wouldn’t do anything to hurt the Paynes?”

“Of course I do,” Harry answers. “How is this not hurting them, though, Niall? I don’t understand.”

“It’s complicated, but I’m sure you’ve been able to guess that Liam doesn’t exactly have the best relationship with his family.”

“Yeah,” Harry says softly. “He doesn’t even come home for Christmas.”

“Exactly,” Niall nods. “I don’t want you to think Liam’s a bad person, Harry, ’cause he’s not. He’s just a little...well, I don’t really know what he is right now. He’s all caught up in the culture of that law firm, working hard, playing even harder, always trying to be the best. So it’s like...I don’t know...he’s a little lost. And it’s been really hard on the family. Geoff especially.”

Harry nods, Geoff’s barbed comments about Liam’s teeth and car and job taking on a whole new context. He sighs heavily, brushing some of Velma’s hair off the arm of the couch.

“I just don’t see how me pretending to be Liam’s fiancé helps make that better,” Harry confesses, looking over at Niall. “It feels wrong. It _is_ wrong. Isn’t it?”

“No, Harry it’s not,” Niall states simply. “Because ever since we met _you,_ it feels like we’ve got Liam back. And telling them the truth just takes him away again. They need you, Harry. Just like you need them.”

“Is that why you keep covering for me?” Harry asks curiously.

“You noticed, huh?” Niall says with a crooked grin.

“It was hard not to, really,” Harry chuckles. “I thought Louis was going to blow a gasket with the _Batman_ thing.”

“That reminds me,” Niall laughs. “How in the fuck did you know about Liam’s one ball? No, no, never mind, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

“It’s nothing untoward,” Harry admits with a giggle. “Right place, right time, I promise.”

They sit in easy silence for a few moments.

“What happens when Liam wakes up?” Harry muses.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Niall assures him, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll think of something. I like you, Harry. And I can’t help but think of how easily I could _be_ you, ya know? So just know that I’ve got your back, okay, buddy?”

Harry feels lighter than he has in days, the burden of his secret now a shared one.

“Thanks, Niall.”

“I should get going,” Niall sighs, checking his watch and getting to his feet. “I’m meeting some friends from work for drinks soon. You wanna come?”

“I’m good,” Harry declines, rising as well. “I’m just gonna chill out tonight. I need to after the past few days. Maybe another time?”

“Of course,” Niall says easily. “See ya at pot roast night?”

“I’ll be there,” Harry affirms, opening the door for him. “And, um, thanks for stopping by, Niall. And for having my back.”

“No problem, H,” Niall replies, tugging him into a quick hug. “And who knows? Maybe Liam will end up falling in love with you anyway.”

“Maybe,” Harry blushes.

“You’re certainly a better choice for him than Zayn,” Niall huffs, trotting towards the stairs. “Jesus, that guy’s a piece of work.”

“So you all keep saying,” Harry says, leaning against the doorframe. “See ya, Niall.”

Niall waves over his shoulder, trotting down the stairs. Harry goes back inside, shutting the door and leaning back against it, closing his eyes as he blows out a big breath.

Well, that was certainly unexpected.

A crash comes from his bedroom, followed by a reproachful meow.

Shit. He totally forgot Nick was in his bedroom. He races over to the door and throws it open. Velma shoots out like a rocket, leaping onto the back of Harry’s couch, glaring at him. Harry’s eyes go wide as he sees his closet door open, Nick standing guiltily clutching an open shoebox, a fedora Harry had once bought on a whim perched on his head and a printed scarf around his neck. Several other shoe boxes surround him on the floor, some upside down, some with the tops popped open.

“Are you _trying on my clothes?”_ Harry shrieks, yanking the box that contains his beloved pair of suede boots out of Nick’s hands, clutching it to his chest protectively. “What the fuck, Nick?”

“I got bored!” Nick exclaims. “You were talking to that guy for a long time!”

“That still doesn’t mean you have the right to go through my things!” Harry insists.

“Hey, it’s not like I went through your underwear drawer,” Nick says defensively. “I understand boundaries.”

“I doubt that,” Harry mutters, crouching down to grab another shoe box.

“Where’d ya get these shoes?” Nick asks, looking back up into Harry’s closet. “Some of these are really nice.”

“Erm, mostly thrift stores on Second Avenue,” Harry replies, handing Nick a box. “Now help me put all this back, please?”

“Second Avenue, eh?” Nick says, taking the box. “Maybe you could take me the–”

Someone knocks on Harry’s door.

“Shhhh,” Harry hisses, holding his hand up. “Who is it?” he calls.

“It’s Louis. Tomlinson.”

Um. Okay.

“Shit,” Harry mutters, climbing to his feet. “Doesn’t anyone use a phone anymore?”

“I do,” Nick offers, his voice hushed.

“I’m not talking about 900-numbers!” Harry replies through clenched teeth, as he heads back out into the living room. “Just a second, Louis!”

“Who told?” Nick gasps as Harry slams the door.

Harry pauses at his front door, his eyes sweeping his apartment; he sighs, realizing there’s nothing he can do about the clutter now. Velma watches him imperiously from the couch as he ruffles his hair, scrunching the ends up. Taking a deep breath, Harry cracks open the door. Louis stands in the hall, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his shearling-lined denim jacket, a black wool scarf knotted around his neck.

“Hi,” Louis smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Hi,” Harry answers, resting his head against the door. “So, do you have any more questions? Liam’s favorite takeout order, maybe?”

Harry really should learn to keep his mouth shut, lest Louis call his bluff. But at the same time, there’s something about Louis he just can’t resist riling up and he doesn’t quite know why.

“God,” Louis groans, sweeping his soft-looking hair off his forehead. “I’m so embarrassed, Harry. Can we just forget that ever happened? Please?”

“Never,” Harry teases. “So...if you aren’t here to interrogate me, then why _are_ you here?”

“I have an engagement present for you,” Louis answers.

“Um,” Harry frowns, picking a ball of lint off the sleeve of his thick, oatmeal-colored sweater. “That’s so nice, but you really shouldn’t have–”

“I didn’t,” Louis interrupts with a smirk. “My parents did.”

“Oh,” Harry says lamely. “Well, still–”

“Surprise, surprise, it’s furniture,” Louis announces. “You want me to bring it up? By the way, was that Niall I saw leaving–”

A crash comes from Harry’s bedroom; Harry cringes as Louis tries to peek his head in the door.

“What was that?” Louis asks curiously.

“Cat,” Harry says automatically, blocking his way, closing the door ever so slightly. “Big cat.”

Louis raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything.

“Um, why don’t you just...I mean–” Harry fumbles, desperate to keep Louis out of his apartment. “I think you should just take it to Liam’s apartment!”

“But you don’t even know what it is,” Louis says, his eyes sparkling in amusement as he leans in conspiratorially.

“Well, you know, pretty much anything would look better in Liam’s apartment,” Harry presses. “And besides, I don’t have any room–”

Another thump comes from Harry’s bedroom.

He is actually going to murder Nick Grimshaw.

“You know what?” Harry says hastily, grabbing his coat and scarf off their hook. He snatches his keys from the dish on the table by the door, smiling brightly at Louis. “I’ll come with you. You’ll probably need help loading it in anyway, yeah? Let’s go.”

Harry slams his door, fumbling with his keys as he locks it. He makes a mental note to buy some new toys for Velma tomorrow, in apology for locking her in with Nick Grimshaw. He shrugs his coat on, turning around to look at Louis as he pulls his hair out from under his collar. Louis watches him with a tiny bemused smile, his face doing that scronchy thing again.

“What?” Harry asks, swiping at his cheeks. “Do I have something on my face?”

“What?” Louis asks, shaking himself. “No. You’re fine, I just spaced out a little, sorry.”

“Oh,” Harry replies, his cheeks heating up as he winds his scarf around his neck. “Okay. Shall we go move some furniture?”

“We shall, Curly,” Louis grins, gesturing for Harry to go in front of him. “After you.”

********

“Can you hop out and let me know how much space I have?” Louis asks Harry once he maneuvers his big box truck into the space in front of Liam’s building.

“Sure,” Harry says, opening the door and hopping out onto the curb.

He goes around to the front of the truck, gesturing for Louis to move up. Louis inches the truck forward, getting closer and closer to the sedan that sits in the next space. Harry holds up his hands, telling Louis to stop, but Louis ignores him, moving so close to the car that his front bumper is practically kissing the sedan’s rear one, finally cutting the engine.

“Why did you even ask if you were going to ignore me?” Harry pouts as Louis climbs down out of the truck, refusing to acknowledge how cute it is that Louis uses the little step that’s right under the door. (It’s really fucking cute.) “You’re too close to the other car, you’re never going to be able to get out if someone parks behind you.”

Louis walks to the front, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he judges the distance.

“It’s fine,” Louis pronounces. “I’ve gotten out of tighter spaces. And besides, we need the extra space to bring the liftgate down and unload the furniture.”

“Whatever you say,” Harry sing-songs. “Just don’t come crying to me when you get blocked in, Louis.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Louis grins cockily. “’Cause it will never happen. Anyway, are you ready for your surprise?”

Harry nods, following Louis around to the back of the truck. The “Paynlinson Estate Furniture” logo is painted on the back door, just like it is on the sides, and Harry realizes that he’s actually excited to see what’s inside. Louis lowers the liftgate halfway, and hops up, bending over and popping the latch on the door. Harry finds himself admiring the way Louis’ jeans hug the ample curve of his ass and his strong, thick thighs.

He’s only human after all.

“Are you really ready?” Louis teases, looking over his shoulder.

“Oh my God, just open the truck already,” Harry replies, rolling his eyes.

“Ta-da!” Louis proclaims, pulling the door up with a flourish.

The truck is full of furniture but Harry’s eyes immediately fall on a rocking chair situated near the front. The chair is exquisite; its dark cherry-stained wood gleams even in the weak light from the streetlamp, the rich chocolate leather of the seat complementing the wood perfectly. Harry can tell the amount of work that went into its construction, from the way the grain of the wood flows together to the burnish of all the individual studs securing the leather to the frame.

Suddenly he wishes they had just moved the chair into his apartment, Nick Grimshaw be damned. He can see the chair in the corner of his living room, his mom’s old afghan slung over the seat, Velma napping contently in the middle.

“Wow,” Harry breathes, taking Louis’ proffered hand and climbing up onto the liftgate and then into the back of truck. He goes straight to the chair, touching the back of it reverently. “This is amazing. Absolutely perfect.”

“You like that?” Louis asks.

“Like it?” Harry gushes. “I love it. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“Too bad,” Louis grins. “Geoff got you that loveseat.”

Louis points over to the other side of the truck; Harry’s gaze follows, his eyes landing on a perfectly nice blue loveseat with overstuffed cushions and floral-printed end pillows.

“Oh,” Harry says lamely. “Well...that’s nice, too?”

Louis laughs out loud, throwing his head back as he covers his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Oh my God,” Harry cringes, clapping his hands to his face, his cheeks hot under his palms. “You must think I’m an ungrateful asshole. The loveseat is wonderful, thank you. Don’t tell Geoff and Jay I did that, okay? I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Louis chuckles bashfully, sweeping his hair to the side. “I made that.”

“The rocking chair?” Harry clarifies, looking down at the beautiful chair and then back up at Louis.  

Louis nods, his cheeks pink.

“No way,” Harry says in awe. “You made this? With your bare hands?”

“Shocking, I know,” Louis says self-deprecatingly.

“Can I sit in it?” Harry asks eagerly.

“Have at it,” Louis replies with a smile, sitting down on the arm on the loveseat.

Harry sits in the rocking chair, the leather squeaking a little as he scoots back into it. The back is perfectly curved for optimal back support, the leather cushion soft but not too squishy; Harry leans back all the way, the head rest just the right height for him to fully relax. He closes his eyes and sighs, rocking back and forth the best he can, considering the chair is tied down to keep it in place in the truck. He pictures himself in a cozy living room by a roaring fire, a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other, Velma on his lap purring happily. It feels like a chair he could sit in for hours.

He rolls his head towards Louis, blinking his eyes open slowly and smiling; Louis watches him, his face soft, looking inordinately pleased with Harry’s reaction.

“It’s perfect,” Harry pronounces softly.

“Thanks,” Louis replies, his smile widening.

“Hey, you should go into business or something!” Harry exclaims, sitting up excitedly. “Lots of people would buy these, Louis!”

Louis’ face falls.

“Well, that gets a little complicated,” Louis admits with a sigh, looking down at his hands.

Harry studies him for a moment, pulling his bottom lip between his fingers.

“Because of Geoff,” Harry states finally.

“Yeah,” Louis says, looking back up at him in surprise, his brow furrowed.

Harry finds himself wanting to reach out and smooth the worry from his face.

“Why don’t you just tell him?” Harry asks gently, not wanting to be pushy. “I’m sure he’d understand–”

“Like he understood Liam deciding to go law school?” Louis interrupts, raising his eyebrow.

“Oh,” Harry says softly.

“I don’t think Geoff’s ever really forgiven Liam for it,” Louis continues. “The business was supposed to be his, you know? That had always been the plan, but then Liam changed his major to pre-law and that was that. No more Payne and Son Estate Furniture. So I stepped in. I was majoring in business anyway, but I always knew I didn’t want to sit behind a desk all day. It felt like a good fit.”

“And Paynlinson Estate Furniture has a better ring to it,” Harry teases.

“Oh, God, that name,” Louis groans. “It’s absolutely ridiculous, right? Geoff was so proud of himself when he came up with it. There was no talking him out of it.”

Harry giggles.

“Geoff’s the best man I’ve ever known,” Louis confesses quietly. “It’s a little different for Liam, ’cause his mom’s always been in his life. I don’t know how much Liam talks about this, but his parents’ divorce was about as amicable as it gets. They shared custody before Karen remarried and moved, and even after that Liam and his sisters got to see her a lot, spending half the summer with her, splitting holidays, everything. They always found a way to make it work, because it really mattered to both Geoff and Karen, you know?”

Harry nods, so wrapped up in Louis’ story that he almost forgets to be grateful to have this new insight into the family dynamic.

“So he was never missing something, you know?” Louis continues. “It wasn’t like that for me and Lottie. My biological father fucked off right after she was born. Decided having a family was too much for him, I guess. I don’t have any sort of relationship with him. He sent birthday cards for a little while, but they eventually stopped coming.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says genuinely.

“Don’t be,” Louis says with a lopsided smile. “I think Geoff was always supposed to be my dad. We just had to find him first.”

Harry’s stomach flips.

“I don’t want to let him down, you know?” Louis continues. “Without me, the business is just ‘Payne,’ you know? At least until Ernie’s old enough to take over–”

“Or one of the girls,” Harry interjects.

“Or, yes, one of the girls,” Louis grins, the crinkles around his eyes deepening. “They could certainly take over, too. Doris has a real mind for business, wait until you see her negotiate Halloween candy trades with Ernie after trick or treating. She’s ruthless.”

Harry laughs, feeling warm despite the chill of the truck.

“Anyway, this furniture thing is great, and I really love making it, but my family’s more important. Besides, I could fail spectacularly, and where would that leave me?”

“You’ll never know unless you try,” Harry says simply. “You’re really talented, Lou.”

The nickname slips past his lips without Harry even realizing it.

“Thanks, Haz,” Louis replies quietly.

The easy nickname warms Harry even more. They look at each other for a few moments before Louis blushes, ruffling his hair and then sweeping it aside.

“Jesus, this got deep,” Louis says ruefully. “Sorry.”

“I don’t mind,” Harry replies with a smile.

“Wanna get this inside?” Louis asks, patting the loveseat.

“Does that mean I have to get up?” Harry groans playfully. “I’m so comfy.”

“Yup,” Louis pops, undoing the ropes securing the loveseat to the slats on the wall of the truck. “Get up off your ass and help me, Styles. You volunteered for the job, after all.”

Harry laughs, pushing himself to his feet and walking over to the other end of the loveseat. He gets to work on the knot securing the last set of ropes, his fingers much clumsier than Louis,’ only managing to undo one in the time that Louis does the other three.

“I’m not going to be much help,” Harry admits, tossing the ropes to the floor and kicking them aside.

“You’re fine, Curly,” Louis assures him. “I just need your brute strength now.”

“Then you’re really in trouble,” Harry snickers. “You should have seen me trying to carry my Christmas tree up the stairs.”

The loveseat is already situated on a flat dolly; Harry and Louis roll it onto the liftgate, Harry holding it steady as Louis lowers them to the ground.

“You take the back end,” Louis directs once he closes up the truck and secures the gate. “’Cause I have a feeling you’ll be better off not walking backwards.”

“Heeeeeeey,” Harry pouts, sticking his bottom lip out.

Louis levels him with a skeptical gaze.

“Okay, fine,” Harry relents. “You’re right.”

“Thank you,” Louis smirks, walking to the front of the loveseat and grabbing the arm. “On three?”

Harry nods as Louis counts them off, pushing the loveseat as Louis pulls. It takes them a few seconds to find a rhythm, the weight of the loveseat awkward on the dolly, but pretty soon they’re moving it seamlessly, maneuvering down to the street corner and turning up onto the sidewalk to head back to the front door of Liam’s building. They pause when they reach the double doors, Louis frowning as he studies them, clearly trying to figure out how to get them through.

“I’ve got it,” Harry says helpfully, scampering over and swinging one of the doors open, bracing it with his butt and then stretching out to press the other one out as well. He beams over at Louis, who laughs.

“Impressive,” Louis comments as he guides the loveseat through the space Harry’s created.

“Thank you,” Harry giggles, moving out of the way so he can grab the loveseat’s arm, pulling it all the way into the lobby.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” a doorman in a navy-blue uniform calls, trotting over to them as Louis lets the doors swing closed behind him. “What apartment?”

“26G,” Louis replies, brushing his hands together.

“I’m sorry, but nighttime visitors need to be announced beforehand.”

“Yeah, but I’m helping him,” Louis shrugs, gesturing to Harry.

“So?” the doorman asks, looking over to Harry and then back at Louis.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“So I’m Liam Payne’s fiancé,” Harry says patiently, willing the doorman to just go along with it. “I was just here this afternoon.”

Harry smiles broadly, hoping the fear doesn’t show in his eyes.

“Don’t you know him?” Louis asks, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“No...” the doorman drawls, scratching his temple.

Shit goddamn motherfucker.

“Look–” Harry starts.

“But I am new here!” the doorman finishes. “Just started yesterday!”

“Oh,” Louis laughs, rolling his eyes. “Well, he’s Liam Payne’s fiancé. Apartment 26G. And I’m Liam’s brother, Louis.”

“Hi,” Harry waves awkwardly. “M’Harry.”

“I’m Graham,” the doorman replies, extending his hand. “I’m sincerely sorry for the mix-up, Mr.–”

“Styles,” Harry supplies, shaking his hand.

“Mr. Styles,” Graham repeats effusively, clearly sucking up to him. “Anything you need, you let me know.”

“Will do,” Harry says kindly. “We’re just gonna get this upstairs, okay?”

“Freight elevator is around the corner,” Graham directs them, pointing down the hall. “You gentlemen have a nice night.”

Graham scurries back to his station as Harry and Louis switch places, Louis once again taking the front of the loveseat. Harry waves at Graham as they turn the corner.

“Fuckin’ hate this place,” Louis grumbles, pressing the button for the freight elevator. “‘All visitors must be announced.’ You’d think Liam was the president or something.”

“Where do you live?” Harry asks as the elevator door rumbles open.

“Williamsburg,” Louis answers, wheeling the loveseat inside. “I bought a loft there a few years ago. It was a totally raw space, so I was able to fix it up however I wanted. It took awhile, but it was worth it in the end. I have my own workshop and everything.”

“That sounds nice,” Harry says, pressing the button for Liam’s floor.

“It is,” Louis smiles. “I love it out there.”

“You traded Queens for Brooklyn, huh?” Harry teases. “Isn’t that like betraying your roots or something?”

“Niall reminds me of that almost everyday,” Louis huffs. “Then I remind him of how low my mortgage payment is. And how many square feet I have. And he never seems to complain when he comes out for poker night on my roof deck.”

Harry snickers as the elevator doors ping open. Louis backs out of the elevator, pulling the loveseat, Harry guiding it along as they wheel it down the hall. Louis fishes his keys out of his pocket once they reach Liam’s door, using his spare key to unlock the door.

“How about you use your very excellent door holding skills,” Louis suggests, unwinding his black scarf and shrugging out of his coat, tossing it on the loveseat. He pushes up the sleeves of his ribbed, dark gray sweater as he surveys the doorway. “And then you can help pull the loveseat through once I get it in?”

“Sounds good,” Harry replies, placing his own coat and scarf on the loveseat as well.

They switch places, scooting past each other in the narrow space left by the loveseat; Louis’ hand grazes Harry’s lower back as he passes by.

“Ready, Curly?” Louis asks once Harry is in position, propping the door open.

Harry nods. Louis starts pushing the loveseat through the doorway; he makes it about a quarter of the way through before the little couch gets stuck, refusing to budge another inch.

“Hmmm,” Louis muses, taking a step back and surveying the door. “Maybe we need to pivot it?”

“I don’t know, Lou,” Harry replies doubtfully, squatting down to examine where the loveseat is stuck. “It looks wedged in there pretty tight. Pivoting will just make it worse.”

“Okay, then,” Louis pronounces, brushing his hands together. “Why don’t you take a few steps back? I’m gonna try an old trick.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“Push it really hard.”

“Oh, _that_ trick,” Harry laughs, taking a few steps back. “Go on, then.”

Louis shifts into a lunge position, pressing his hands against the arm of the loveseat.

Nothing happens.

“Are you ever going to actually going to push it?”

“I am pushing it,” Louis grunts, swiping at his forehead. “Shit.”

Harry honks a laugh, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Do you want my help?” Harry asks in amusement, cocking his hip.

“Please.”

Harry giggles, climbing up onto the couch. Louis offers his hand in order to steady him as he climbs over; Harry takes it, gripping tightly to maintain his balance. Louis’ hand is warm and slightly rough in his, little callouses built up on his fingers from all his woodworking. But at the same time, it feels delicate, Louis’ smaller hand engulfed in Harry’s larger one.

As he hops to the floor and squeezes in next to Louis, Harry gives a fleeting thought to the softness of Liam’s hands, surprised to find he prefers the roughness of his brother’s. He shoves the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand. He inhales deeply, which doesn’t help at all because he catches a whiff of Louis’ subtle cologne, its woodsy scent going straight to his head.

Christ.

“On three?” Louis asks, looking over at him. “You with me, Curly?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry affirms, bracing his weight against the loveseat.

Louis counts them off and they push with all their might; the loveseat moves forward incrementally.

“It’s moving,” Louis declares through clenched teeth. “Just a little bit more, Harry, come on!”

They push even harder, Harry’s shoes sliding against the thick carpet. Part of the doorjamb gives way with a sickening crack; Harry and Louis tumble to the floor as the loveseat goes flying into the apartment, skidding on the wheels of the dolly and crashing into something inside.

“Oh, shit,” Louis gasps, looking over at Harry with wide eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry groans, rubbing his knee as he climbs to his feet. “I don’t even want to know what that crashed into.”

“Only one way to find out,” Louis replies, dusting himself off as Harry helps him to his feet.

They walk into the apartment. Harry cringes when he sees that the loveseat crashed into a pillar displaying one of Liam’s orchids. The large (and expensive-looking) crystal vase is thankfully intact, its fall cushioned by the carpet. The pristine _white_ carpet is currently soaking up the bright, artificially colored turquoise water that had been in the vase.

“Fuck,” Harry murmurs, looking up at Fluffy who watches them curiously from her perch on an ottoman. “Liam’s gonna kill us, isn’t he?”

“You know what?” Louis asks, peeking over Harry’s shoulder. “That looks like a perfect place for the loveseat to go. Don’t you agree, Harry?”

“Absolutely,” Harry nods. He looks back up at Fluffy, who stares back at them haughtily. “Don’t tell Dad, okay?”

********

They clean up as much of the mess as possible using Liam’s (thankfully) black bath towels and then shove the loveseat over the stain. Harry loads the soiled towels into the washing machine, Louis promising to come back and put them in the dryer after he takes Harry home. On the way out, they stop by the front desk to let Graham know about the damaged door jamb.

“Of course, Mr. Styles,” Graham says, eager to please. “We have a 24-hour maintenance staff, as you know. I’ll send someone up to take care of it right away, don’t you worry. You have a nice evening now.”

“Thanks, Graham,” Harry says, offering him a dazzling smile as he and Louis walk away. “You’ve been so helpful. I appreciate it.”

“Quite the charmer, aren’t you, Styles?” Louis comments, holding the door open for him. “You just flash those dimples and everyone’s your best friend, eh?”

“M’just being nice,” Harry says bashfully. “And besides, doormen are like the last people you should be mean to, yeah? They see everything.”

“That is true,” Louis chuckles, walking down the sidewalk. “Can you imagine some of the stuff they see in this kind of building? I bet–oh, _shit.”_

Louis jogs over to the truck, a hand in his hair. Harry follows him, trying his damnedest not to laugh out loud as he sees the SUV parked right up against the truck’s rear bumper.

“This idiot fucking blocked me in!” Louis exclaims, kicking the SUV’s tire.

“I _did_ try to tell you not to park so close, Louis,” Harry says, only a little smug. “But you insisted.”

“Arrrrgh, fuck,” Louis growls. “Can you check and see how much time is left on the meter?”

“Um, it’s after six,” Harry says, shuffling back and forth on his feet. “They can pretty much stay here all night if they want to.”

“Goddammit,” Louis sighs, combing his fingers through his hair. “All night, huh?”

“Yep,” Harry pops. “Okay, a cab’s not really in my budget, so I’m just gonna walk home. Have a good night, Lou. Thanks for the adventure.”

“You’re just gonna leave me here with the truck?” Louis asks incredulously.

“Um, basically yeah,” Harry grins walking backwards towards the corner. “The towels will be done in a half hour or so. Don’t forget to use fabric softener. And maybe think about listening to me next time!”

“Well, maybe I oughta walk you back,” Louis calls after him.

“What for?”

“For...protection. It’s New York, after all.”

“Really, Louis?” Harry says, rolling his eyes. “It’s not that far and I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“I didn’t say the protection was for you,” Louis grins. “Maybe I don’t want to wait here all by myself?”

“O-oh,” Harry says, stopping in his tracks.

“And I can already tell that cat hates me,” Louis wheedles, walking towards him. “The less time I spend in Liam’s apartment, the better. So really, you’re doing me a favor here, Curly. Whaddya say? Can I walk you home?”

A smile breaks out on Harry’s face as he takes in Louis’ hopeful expression.

“Yeah, okay,” Harry replies, his stomach doing a little flip. “Some company would be nice.”

Louis nods, his smile widening as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. They cross Broadway and Columbus Avenue, turning left in front of Lincoln Center, walking slowly, side by side.

“So tell me more about yourself, Harry,” Louis says, breaking the slightly awkward silence.

“Here we go,” Harry teases gently. “I knew it. More questions.”

“Hey, but at least these are the kind of questions I should have been asking from the beginning,” Louis banters, his eyes sparkling.

“True,” Harry laughs. “Um, okay. There’s not much to know really? I’m 29. I work for the MTA. I have a cat.”

“What’s your cat’s name?”

“Velma,” Harry answers fondly. “No offense to Fluffy, of course, but Velma’s the best cat in the whole world.”

“Velma, huh,” Louis muses, kicking a stray Coke can out of the way. “As in _Scooby Doo?”_

“No,” Harry chuckles. “Though she _is_ orange, funnily enough. No, it’s after Velma Kelly from the musical _Chicago.”_

“Big Broadway fan?”

“Um, my mom really loved musicals,” Harry answers. “Especially ones from the late ’60s and ’70s. Y’know, like _Cabaret_ , _Hair, How to Succeed_ ...all of ’em. We owned all sorts of movie musicals, would watch ’em all the time, but what she really loved was listening to cast albums on vinyl. _Chicago_ was her favorite one. She always said it was underappreciated because it opened the same year as _Chorus Line.”_

“Y’know, I read the other day that City Center is doing a concert version of _Chicago_ in the spring,” Louis says. “You should take her.”

“Oh,” Harry says awkwardly, his heart clenching in his chest. “She, um. She died two years ago.”

“Oh, shit,” Louis breathes, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t–”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry says simply, offering him a tiny smile.

“What about your dad?” Louis asks after a few moments.

“He died when I was four,” Harry replies matter-of-factly.

“Oh, Harry.”

“I don’t really remember him,” Harry sighs. “My only memories come from all the stories about him that Mom would tell me. Like how they met on a blind date and got engaged after a weekend.”

“A _weekend?_ Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiles, the comfortingly familiar story coming easily to him.  “She always said that she knew he was the one because he gave her the world. It was actually just this globe with a light in it that he bought for her at a flea market that weekend, but for the romantic that she was, it might as well have been the whole world.”

“She never remarried?”

“No,” Harry says. “Dad was the great love of her life. They had ten amazing years together. She dated a little bit here and there, but no one else ever measured up to him. And she never wanted to settle, you know?”

They pause at a red light.

“She sounds like she was an amazing woman,” Louis says, turning to look at Harry, a soft smile on his face. “Tell me more about her? Only if you want to, if you want to talk about something else–”

“No, no,” Harry interrupts, smiling back at him. “I love talking about her. She was my favorite person.”

The light changes. Louis’ hand comes to the small of his back, gently guiding him forward into the crosswalk. The touch is fleeting, barely more than a couple of seconds, but it feels significant to Harry, almost like it brands him.

“What was one of your favorite things about her? One of the things you remember most.”

“She loved maps,” Harry answers, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “She used to hear of a place on TV and then we’d pull out this giant atlas and find where it was, and we’d make up the most ridiculous ways for us to try and get there. She loved road trips. Money was always pretty tight for us, but that didn’t stop her from taking me on all sorts of adventures. There were weekends where she would pack up our sometimes-working car and we would just hit the road, y’know?”

“Where would you go?”

“Oh, we would go to exciting locations like...Milwaukee.”

Louis chuckles.

“Yeah, it’s pretty amazing how exotic Wisconsin...isn’t,” Harry laughs.

“That’s where you grew up?”

“Aren’t you just Mr. Chatty this evening?” Harry teases.

“Fact of the matter is, I’m freezing,” Louis admits with a grin. “Making conversation is keeping my face from freezing off.”

“What did you expect wearing a denim jacket in December, Lou? You’re insane.”

“It’s lined!” Louis says defensively, holding up one arm to show the shearling cuff of the jacket. “It’s literally lined with fleece, Harold.”

Harry giggles. They walk by a hot dog cart, the smell of boiled hot dogs causing Harry’s stomach to growl.

“I know you’re cold, but do you mind stopping for a second?” Harry asks. “I didn’t have any dinner and I’m starving.”

“Knock yourself out,” Louis replies.

“Hi,” Harry smiles, trotting over to the cart and digging for his wallet. “One hot dog, please? Just mustard.”

“Make that two,” Louis says from behind him, handing the man a couple bills. “My treat.”

“Louis, you don’t have to,” Harry protests.

“It’s a dollar, Harry,” Louis insists. “You can get me next time, if you want.”

Harry smiles, heat rushing to his cheeks.

“Thank you,” Harry says, looking at Louis as the man hands them their hot dogs.

“You’re welcome,” Louis replies, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He raises his hot dog in a toast, bumping the end of it with Harry’s and smiling slyly. “To starting the day with balls and ending it with wieners.”

“Oh my God,” Harry chortles. “Are you twelve or something?”

“Excuse you, I am a thirty-five-year-old man, Curly,” Louis laughs.

It occurs to Harry as he gives Louis a (hopefully) subtle look up and down that maybe that’s part of the reason he’d fallen for Liam so quickly; he was definitely a man, not a boy. The two brothers are like flip sides of the same coin, but Louis is definitely a man, too. A handsome one at that.

Oh, fuck. What is he doing?  

“Besides, dick jokes never really get old, do they?” Louis continues. “C’mon, you have to admit that was a good one.”

“It was,” Harry giggles. “Though I feel funny eating this now, thanks a lot.”

Louis’ laugh is airy and bright as Harry takes a big bite of his hot dog. Harry glares at him as he chews.

“God,” Harry sighs appreciatively, wiping his mouth. “I know they’re so bad for you, but sometimes there’s nothing like a dirty-water dog, is there?”

“They’re the actual best,” Louis says, taking a bite of his own dog.

They walk in companionable silence, munching on their hot dogs.

“Okay, I have another question for you,” Louis says once he’s done, crumpling up the paper wrapper and expertly tossing it into a nearby trash can. He holds out his hand for Harry’s wrapper, doing the exact same thing. “What’s the one place in the world you’d go if–”

“Florence,” Harry says definitively, not even letting him finish the question.

“Italy, eh? Why Florence?”

“Why _not_ Florence?” Harry counters. “That was always my favorite of the places Mom and I looked up. It just seems like a magical place, you know? All the art that was created there, the food, the architecture, everything about it.”

“I’ve never been to Italy,” Louis says. “I hear it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Harry says wistfully. “I mean the subway doesn’t exactly make it to Italy, but one day…” Harry trails off, digging into the inner pocket of his coat. He pulls out a little blue book, holding it up for Louis. “In the meantime, I always have this on me!”

“Is that your passport?” Louis asks with a bemused expression.

“Yup,” Harry says, handing it to him. “Y’know, just in case I have to leave the country on short notice–”

“Right, right,” Louis laughs, flipping through the booklet. “Always be prepared, right?”

“See, you understand me.”

“Oh, you’re right,” Louis says, studying the front page.

“About what?”

“You’re not photogenic at all,” Louis says, his eyes twinkling teasingly as he holds up the passport.

“Shut up,” Harry laughs, shoving him playfully. He wrests the passport from Louis’ grip, swatting him with it. “Literally no one has a good passport picture, you asshole. It’s like a known fact.”

“Uncle, uncle!” Louis laughs, holding his hands up under Harry’s continued assault. “I’m sorry, you’re right.”

Harry gives him one more smack for good measure.

“There aren’t any stamps in there,” Louis points out as Harry pockets the passport.

“That’s ’cause I haven’t been anywhere yet,” Harry says simply. “But y’know, I’m planning a trip to Florence really soon.”

“Maybe you could go on your honeymoon,” Louis suggests.

Jesus, Harry had almost forgotten that he’s supposed to be engaged to Liam.

“Yeah, maybe,” Harry nods. “He wants to go somewhere tropical though.”

Louis nods, grimacing ever so slightly as he sweeps his hair aside.

“I’m still going to go to Florence, though,” Harry states. “Even if I have to go by myself. I’ve been saving for it for ages. I don’t even want to plan anything, I just want to go and see where it all takes me.”

“I think that’ll make your mom really proud,” Louis says genuinely. “Do it like she would have.”

“Exactly,” Harry says. “That’s exactly what I want to do.”

They look at each other for a long moment; Harry’s skin starts to prickle under Louis’ intense blue gaze. He looks away, eyes widening when he realizes they’re standing outside his apartment building.

“Oh,” Harry says with a hint of disappointment. “This is me.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he looks up at Harry’s building.

“I, um, I had a really good time tonight,” Harry says. “Thanks for walking with me.”

“Anytime,” Louis smiles. “Hey, I got you this far, I might as well walk you all the way to the door, yeah?”

“Okay,” Harry smiles back.

Harry sets out across the courtyard, almost immediately slipping on a patch of ice.

“Careful, Bambi,” Louis warns, a steadying hand at his elbow. “It’s pretty slippery here. The courtyard’s completely iced over.”

“Thanks,” Harry says gratefully, modifying his steps so he’s not so much stepping as he is gliding across the ice. “So, um, are you going to go see Liam tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got the first shift in the–oop!”

The minute Louis looks over at Harry and not at his feet, he completely loses his balance, his arm flying out and catching Harry around the waist, his face landing solidly on Harry’s chest. Miraculously, Harry maintains his balance, one arm hooking under Louis’ armpit, supporting his weight as his other arm slides around Louis’ shoulder, clinging to the denim of his jacket. Harry slips and slides as Louis tries to pull himself up, his free arm gripping Harry’s shoulder.

“Do _not_ take me down with you,” Harry orders, his feet skating on the slick surface.

“I’m not, I’m not,” Louis laughs, finally managing to get his feet under him, standing up straight. “Jesus, that was a close one.”

“You okay?” Harry grins, squeezing Louis’ arms tightly as he finds his balance.

“I’m good,” Louis affirms, blowing out a big breath.

“Now, who were you just calling Bambi?” Harry teases cockily, taking a big step, forgetting all about his gliding technique.

Harry’s feet immediately go out from under him as he twists around backwards, Louis barely managing to catch him under his arms.

“You were saying?” Louis laughs, looking down at him, blue eyes twinkling in amusement.

Louis tries to heft Harry up, but the task is made much more difficult by Harry’s taller frame, his long legs making him that much more clumsy.

“Shut up,” Harry cackles, his feet sliding every which way as he tries to find some sort of foothold. Harry takes a deep breath, managing to twist himself back around in Louis’ embrace; he grips Louis’ shoulder, his cheek pressed against Louis’ tummy.

“How’s this working out for ya?” Louis teases, slowly scooching Harry up his chest, fighting to stay upright himself.

“Great,” Harry hoots with laughter, finally getting himself high enough to where he can slide his arm around Louis’ neck, using his body for leverage.

Louis grips his hips tightly, fighting to stay still so Harry can get to his feet. They are completely tangled together, Harry’s other hand holding on to Louis’ arm for dear life. It’s only when Harry manages to finally stand to his full height that he realizes _just_ how close he and Louis are. He can see how long Louis’ eyelashes are (very long) and he notices a little triangle of freckles on his cheek, just above where his scruff starts. Their laughter falls away as their eyes lock, their clouds of breath mingling together as their chests heave with their combined effort of getting Harry back up to his feet.

Harry’s stomach lurches as his dick gives a little twitch in his jeans.

Oh.

Oh, _shit._  

Harry slips again, his foot sliding between Louis’ feet, bringing them just that much closer, their torsos completely pressed together and their arms wrapped around each other. Louis’ breath hitches as he steadies Harry, quickly squeezing his hip before moving his hand up to his elbow. His eyes flick down to Harry’s lips, immediately flicking back to his eyes. Harry feels like he can’t breathe.

“Y’alright?” Louis rasps, his voice tight.

“Y-yeah,” Harry murmurs, scooting back a little, putting just enough space between them to where he feels like he can breathe again. “Yeah, I think I’m good now.”

“Good,” Louis says, taking a small step back.

Harry misses his body heat immediately.

“Okay, then,” Louis smiles, taking another step back. “Almost the–”

Louis’ feet fly out from under him. He catches Harry around the waist once more, finally bringing the pair of them crashing to the ground. Harry hears the sound of denim ripping as he lands halfway on top of Louis. Suddenly everything is funny again as the pair of them burst out laughing.

“Oh my God,” Harry howls, briefly resting his forehead against Louis’ chest before rolling off of him and onto his back. “We’re pathetic, you know that right? Worse than Bambi.”

“I don’t know if that was my pants or my muscles that ripped,” Louis groans, rolling to his side. “I’m too fucking old for this nonsense, Harry. I’m in pain.”

“Come on,” Harry wheezes, crawling to his knees and then back up to his feet. “Give me your hand.”

Harry proceeds to drag Louis to the edge of the ice, Louis laughing the whole time at the utter ridiculousness of the whole situation. Harry finally manages to get them past the worst of it, helping Louis to his feet.

“Oh, man,” Louis cringes as he stands, twisting his torso around as he tries to assess the damage to his jeans. “My pants are split right down the middle. Do you have a pair I could borrow?”

The thought of Louis changing his clothes in his apartment is a little too much for Harry right now. He’s still reeling from that moment before, almost positive that Louis was thinking about kissing him. And the truth is, Harry’s not sure he would have stopped him from doing so.

And that’s...that’s just a lot for him to unpack.

“I...um...all of my sweatpants are dirty,” Harry lies, feeling like an asshole. “Really behind on laundry, you know? I don’t think anything else I have would fit you, I’m sorry.”

“Just my luck, huh?” Louis huffs. “Is it really bad? I can’t really tell.”

Louis turns around, showing the rip to Harry. Harry’s mouth goes dry and he swallows hard, his eyes drifting down to Louis’ (perfect) ass. He knows it’s completely innocent, but Louis is basically giving him permission to ogle him. Still, Harry does his best to keep his gaze clinical, focusing only on the ripped denim and not on the navy blue fabric of Louis’ briefs peeking out from underneath it.

“Well?” Louis asks. “How bad is it?”

“Um, your pants are definitely ripped,” Harry answers tentatively. “But...um...at least your underwear is dark?”

“Thank God I didn’t go for the pair with bright red hearts today then, eh?” Louis jokes lamely, turning back around.

“Yeah,” Harry replies, his face flushing. “Definitely.”

“Now stay in front of me,” Louis orders, walking towards him. “You’re blocking the wind.”

They finally reach the door to Harry’s building. Harry turns to Louis, not knowing if he should give him a hug, a handshake, or just run inside and hide. So he just smiles at him; Louis looks back at him, his face scrunching up fondly.

God, is it possible that he’s gotten prettier in the span of an hour?  

“I’ll just wait until you’re inside,” Louis says awkwardly, his hands in his pockets. “Door to door service, the Tommo way.”

A nervous giggle escapes Harry’s lips as he digs his keys out of his pocket.

“Well, good night, then,” Harry says, inserting the key into the lock.

“Night,” Louis smiles.

“I’ll see you when I see you?”

“You will,” Louis confirms.

“Okay,” Harry grins, pushing the door open. “Bye, Lou.”

“Bye, Curly.”

Harry steps inside, barely refraining from resting back against the door and sighing, lest Louis see. As he heads up the stairs, the door to the Grimshaws’ apartment flies open.

“Okay, Harry,” Nick calls after him. “It’s either me or him.”

“Him,” Harry answers immediately.

“Listen, you don’t have to answer right away! Give it some thought. I mean, I put all your stuff back for you _and_ used Pop’s keys to lock up your apartment, that has to count for something.”

“Thank you, Nick,” Harry calls, unlocking his apartment and pushing the door open. “Good night!”

Harry steps inside, walking over to where Velma is perched on the window sill. He strokes her back as he looks outside, smiling when he sees Louis hobbling to the street, one hand pressed over the torn seam of his jeans, attempting to preserve his modesty. Harry watches him hail a cab, butterflies dancing in his stomach the whole time. He sucks a breath in through his teeth, his breath whistling as he exhales.

Oh, this is going to be a real _problem._


	6. Chapter 6

“I’m having an affair.”

Harry claps his hand over his mouth as James swivels around, gaping at him as they wait for their breakfast orders at the bodega’s deli counter.

“What?” James barks, taking his breakfast sandwich from the cook.

“I like Louis,” Harry moans dramatically as the cook hands him his bagel and coffee, giving him a judgmental look.

Harry looks down at his order. His bagel is toasted.

Honestly, it’s what he deserves.

“And who the hell is Louis?” James demands, joining the line at the cash register.

“Liam’s brother. Well. Stepbrother. But. _Liam’s brother,_ James.”

“The coma guy?” James asks incredulously. “Oh no, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry whines. “Not only is Louis gorgeous, but he’s so funny and smart and he’s a good listener. He makes furniture with his bare hands and he thinks I’m engaged!”

“To who?”

“To Liam! His brother! C’mon, James, keep up!”

“Harry, I don’t have time for this,” James says, pocketing his change and walking away.

One benefit of Harry’s routine existence is knowing exactly how much his usual order costs, so he tosses the exact change for his breakfast on the counter before he scurries after James.

“No, no, no, James!” Harry exclaims, catching up to him and holding the door open. “You have to tell me what to do! I’m freaking out here. Liking Liam’s brother was not part of the plan!”

“Just tell him the truth, Harry,” James sighs. “Then you’re free to fall in love, get married, and adopt a million babies together.”

“No, you don’t understand how Louis feels about his family, James,” Harry says gravely. “If I tell Louis I lied to them, he’ll never speak to me again. And then there’s Geoff and Jay and Olive and Lottie and Fizzy and both sets of twins. All of them! Niall, too!”

“Niall?” James shakes his head in confusion. “Who the hell is Niall? There’s so many of them, Harry!”

“Their next-door neighbor,” Harry answers. “He’s been friends with them his whole life. Practically one of the family.”

“Harry–”

“Oh! You know what?” Harry gasps, smacking James on the shoulder. “Actually, Niall already knows.”

“Harry,” James says witheringly, unwrapping his sandwich. “You’re born into a family. You don’t just join one like you do the Marines.”

Harry flinches, James’ words cutting a little close to the bone. He pulls at his bottom lip, shuffling back and forth on his feet as he runs different scenarios through his head. None of them end well.

“You have to tell me what to do, James,” Harry begs. “Please.”

James takes a bite of his sandwich, looking deep in thought.

“Pu-eh-lug,” James mumbles through a mouthful of bacon, egg, and cheese.

“What? What did you say?”

“I said,” James says calmly, once he swallows. “Pull the plug.”

Harry looks at him critically, shaking his head.

“You are sick,” Harry states, poking James in the chest. “Sick, sick, sick.”

Harry spins on his heel and starts off towards the subway station where his shift is about to begin.

“I’m sick?” James calls after him. “Harry, you’re the one cheating on a vegetable!”

********

“Louis, look!” Doris cries proudly, holding up her completed drawing. “I drew the whole family for Liam!”

“Hand it over, kiddo,” Louis commands, setting aside the deck of cards he’s been mindlessly shuffling for the last ten minutes. He leans back in his chair, reaching over towards the empty hospital bed and taking the piece on construction paper from Doris, who’s perched next to her twin. “Let me see what you’ve got here.”

Louis studies the childish drawing, smiling softly when he sees that Doris even included Harry in the picture. He barely resists stroking his finger down the curly-haired, green-eyed likeness, smiling wryly when he sees that she drew the tall, lanky man right in between Liam and himself. Fitting, really.

Jesus, he has _got_ to get this raging crush on his brother’s _fiancé_ under control. Pronto.

“Do you think Liam will like it?” Doris asks hopefully, looking at Liam, who continues to sleep peacefully.

“He’ll love it,” Louis pronounces. “We should hang it up for him, so he sees it as soon as he wakes up.”

“Mine too!” Ernie exclaims, holding up his finished drawing. (An abstract one, Louis can’t quite decipher what it is, other than the words GET WELL SOON above the scramble of colors.)

“Mom, you got any tape in your purse?” Louis asks, taking Ernie’s drawing and ruffling his hair.

“You know, I think I just might,” Jay says, grabbing her large purse from the end table, rifling through it. “Kids, clean your stuff up, it’s time to get you guys home.”

“Oh, do we have to?” Ernie whines.

“Your brother needs his rest,” Jay states, fishing a roll of scotch tape out of her purse and handing it to Louis.

“But he’s already sleeping!” Doris protests, gathering up her crayons anyway. “Mom, come on.”

Louis bites back a laugh as he tapes the drawings to the wall next to Liam’s bed, making sure they can be seen above the numerous flower arrangements that have accumulated over the course of his stay.

“No arguments,” Jay says firmly.

“But Mom–”

“Keep it up, you two, and we won’t stop for hot chocolate on the way home.”

Louis can’t help the laugh that bursts forth as the twins promptly shut up. Jay catches his eye over their heads, shooting him a wink.

“Are you staying, Louis?” Jay asks, helping Ernie into his coat.

“Yeah,” Louis replies, sitting by Liam’s side on the mattress and picking up his deck of cards from the table over the bed. “We need some quality brother time.”

“Will we see you for dinner?”

“No,” Louis replies, thinking of the half-finished dining room table waiting for him in his workshop. “I have work to do tonight. But I’ll be there for pot roast tomorrow, promise.”

“Good,” Jay smiles, coming over to him and giving him a hug, pressing a kiss to his hair. “C’mon, kiddos, say goodbye to your brothers.”

Louis hugs the twins goodbye, kissing them both on the cheeks; he smiles as he watches them both hug Liam goodbye as well, getting up on their tiptoes so they can reach him properly.

“Well, it’s just you and me now, Leemo,” Louis says once they’re gone. “How ’bout a game of poker?”

Louis presses the little button on the side of Liam’s bed, raising him up into a slightly more seated position. He moves the table between them, giving the cards one last shuffle.

“We’ve been missing you at poker night the past couple of months,” Louis says, dealing them five cards each. “Me especially. I mean, who else am I supposed to wipe the floor with every time? I love you, Liam, but you’re so bad at cards. Always have been.”

Louis sets the deck aside, studying Liam’s face. It boggles his mind that Liam genuinely appears to be just sleeping deeply rather than locked away in a coma; his face is completely serene, no worry lines or creases brought about by the stress of the day. The gash over his eyebrow looks to be healing nicely, but Louis imagines it’s still going to leave a scar there, slicing his eyebrow.

Well if Luke Perry can pull it off, so can Liam.

“You know why you’re so bad at cards?” Louis continues with a lopsided smile. “Absolutely no poker face. Loads of tells. You’re a big, bad lawyer for fuck’s sake, you’d think you’d be better at poker.”

He wills Liam to respond to his trash talk or at the least just open his fucking eyes.

Nothing.

“Okay,” Louis says, sliding his hand of cards towards him, keeping the cards face down. “Five card draw. You know the rules. Ante up.”

Louis grabs a handful of the Hershey Kisses that the twins left for the nurses in a bowl by the bed and divides them into two piles. He tosses two to the table for his ante.

“You in?” Louis asks Liam.

The thing is, Liam _always_ goes in when they play poker, always willing to play the odds, so Louis adds two Kisses next to his, sweetening the pot. Louis peeks at his own cards, arranging them in his hand. He decides to toss another two Kisses to the pile.

“In for two. Do you call?”

He picks up two more Kisses for Liam, adding them to the pot.

“Never one to fold, are you?” Louis grins. “Good man. I’m going to draw one.”

He discards his garbage card and then draws a new one from the deck.

“How about you, Liam? What are you looking at?”

Louis sets his cards down, picking up Liam’s hand, studying them. He has a pair of aces, but nothing else worth keeping.

“You’ll take three,” Louis announces, plucking up the three discards and setting them aside, dealing Liam three more cards.

Pretending that Liam can actually see him, Louis keeps his face neutral as he looks at his new card, arranging it within his hand.

“In for three,” he says, adding his Kisses to the pot. “Leemo?”

Louis picks up the rest of Liam’s pile of Kisses, dumping them in the middle.

“All in?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. “You think you can scare _me_ into folding, bro? Not likely. I’ll call.”

Louis shoves the rest of his Kisses into the middle.

“Show ’em,” Louis says, reaching for Liam’s cards, flipping them over one by one.

Liam has the pair of aces, a king, a seven, and a deuce.

“Ooooh, he went all in on a pair of aces,” Louis teases. “That’s bold. Well, read ’em and weep, buddy.”

Louis lays his cards on the table, fanning them out to display the pair of eights and the three jacks.

“Full house,” Louis smirks, sweeping all the candy to his side of the table. “You, brother, are unlucky at cards.”

Louis gathers all the cards together, stacking them neatly. As he shuffles the deck, his gaze falls on Doris’ drawing, his eyes immediately going to her version of Harry. It’s only then that he notices that she drew Harry and Liam holding hands.

“But you are lucky in love.”

Louis sighs heavily, shuffling the cards as he lets his thoughts drift, getting lost in the comforting task of mixing the cards together over and over again.

“Do you remember sixth grade?” Louis asks after a long moment. “I mean, of course you remember it, you were there. Top of the class, captain of the football team, Mr. Popularity. That was you. I started getting really good at poker that year, going home with lots of pocket money. Including yours most of time. Some things never really change, do they?”

Louis sets the cards aside, picking at the callous on the base of his pinky finger.

“Do you remember Mr. Peterson? That mean old bastard who was our geography teacher? Once, when I had detention, he told me I’d never amount to anything. I know, what a thing to say to a twelve-year-old kid, right? I mean, I know I wasn’t getting straight A’s like you, unless we’re talking about shop class, but I did alright. He was just a bitter old man. I know that now. I like to think I’ve made something of myself, but still there are times where I hear his voice in my head. That shit doesn’t ever really go away, does it?”

Louis sighs, sweeping his hair aside.

“There was another time, because let’s be real, I spent a lot of time in detention that year, Mr. Peterson said to me, ‘Why can’t you be more like your brother Liam?’ My brother, the golden boy. But the thing is, and I know you might not believe me, but I was okay with being in your shadow. I had no problem with that because I was proud of you. You always worked so hard to get what you’ve wanted and I’ve always been proud of you, Liam. Still am, you know.”

Louis smiles at Liam, punching him gently on the arm.

“Even if you are a douchebag sometimes. You really should call home more, you know that, right? I know you’re super busy at work, but the girls miss you. Ernie, too. He really needs his big brothers, he’s outnumbered, the poor kid. Mom and Dad miss you, Liam. Even though Dad won’t really admit it. You know,” Louis chuckles, shaking his finger at him, “one of these days, I’m just gonna lock the two of you in a room and leave you there until you work your shit out once and for all.

“I know I’m rambling,” Louis says ruefully. “Sorry, but you’re stuck listening, so deal with it. I guess what it is that I’m trying to say is that despite probably having every reason to be, I’ve never been envious of anything you had.”

Louis’ gaze falls on the drawing again and he scrubs his hand down his face as his heart clenches.

“Until now.”

Louis blows out a big breath, grabbing the deck of cards again. He feels both better and worse having managed to put his feelings into words.

He shuffles the cards twice.

“Harry’s not like anyone else you’ve dated,” Louis observes. “I don’t know, maybe that’s what drew you to him in the first place? He’s just...sweet? And kind? And I know I don’t have to tell _you_ about those fucking dimples, they’re lethal. He’s just...he really took me by surprise, you know?”

Louis takes a shuddery breath, stuffing down his emotions.

“He took us _all_ by surprise,” Louis amends. “Everyone loves him already, Liam. He just...he fits in with us. Just you wait and see.”

Louis looks down at his deck of cards, shuffling them one more time.

“I have an idea,” Louis says, smiling slyly. “How about I cut the deck? High card gets Harry.”

Louis plucks out two cards, laying one face down in front of Liam and keeping the other one for himself.

“Yeah, yeah, I know he’s not a prize to be won,” Louis scoffs. “Cut me a little slack here, I’m desperate.”

He flips over his card. It’s the king of hearts. He knows it’s a stupid game not at all rooted in reality, but at the same time, he can’t help the way his heart leaps. Fingers shaking ever so slightly, he flips over Liam’s card.

The ace of spades.

“All right, then,” Louis grimaces. “How about we go two out of three?”

********

The next day, Harry pops over to Liam’s apartment when he gets off work to take care of Fluffy, making a point to say hello to Graham on his way up. The Persian cat is nowhere to be seen as he tends to her litter box and puts down fresh water, but she finally makes an appearance when he opens up a can of food, meowing loudly as she rubs up against his legs. He sets her bowl on the ground and she sniffs at it tentatively, looking up at him and letting out a sanctimonious meow, her blue eyes reproachful.

“Listen, I know you’re probably used to the fancy stuff,” Harry sighs. “But until your dad gets home, it’s Friskies or nothing, baby, I’m sorry.”

Fluffy glares at him, but delicately starts eating her food anyway.

Harry grins when he finds that not only did Louis remember to put the towels from the other night in the dryer, but he took them out and folded them neatly and stacked them back up in Liam’s bathroom, just like they were when they found them. (What can he say? Domesticity is hot.) In fact, the only evidence they were even here is the oddly placed loveseat in the living room, its blue fabric sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the black and white decor.

Harry locks up and takes the elevator back down to the lobby, waving at Graham on his way out. His stomach already rumbling in anticipation of pot roast night with the Paynes, he whistles as he walks down to the bus stop on Amsterdam Avenue. The bus pulls up seconds after he gets there and he barely stops himself from cheering.

He’s home in no time, calling out a hello to Velma, who’s nowhere to be seen. He strips his work clothes off, tossing them into the hamper before twisting his hair in a bun and heading into the bathroom for a quick shower, just to wash away the grime of the subway station. Velma finally makes an appearance when he shuts the shower off and pulls back the curtain, peering around the door curiously as he towels off.

“There you are,” Harry greets her, wrapping the towel around his hips as he steps out of the shower. “How was your day?”

Velma pads over to him, sniffing at his toes as if she’s confirming that it’s really him. She meows loudly and saunters out of the bathroom, her orange tail swishing.

“That great, huh?” Harry calls after her, undoing his bun and shaking his curls out. “I’ll feed you in a little bit, okay?”

He gets dressed, opting for his best pair of jeans and the lavender sweater Jay got him for Christmas. Harry pulls the sweater down around his hips, judging his reflection in the mirror. The sweater fits him just right, the pale purple complementing his skin tone and bringing out the green in his eyes. He spritzes on a little bit of cologne and then ruffles his hair, scrunching the ends up.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look nice for family dinner, right? It’s not like he’s trying to impress anyone.

Because he’s not.

“This looks good right?” Harry asks Velma as he walks into the living room, the cat watching him from the couch. “Like put together, but not trying too hard at the same time, right?”

Velma meows, stretching out and digging her claws into the arm of the couch.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry sighs, grabbing a can of food from the cabinet, popping it open and dumping it into her bowl. “I’m being ridiculous.”

Velma hops off the couch, practically pouncing on her food as soon as the bowl hits the floor.

“Yeah, I’m hungry too,” Harry says quietly, stroking her back. “I’ll be home later, okay?”

He grabs his coat and scarf, forgoing his beanie. Blowing Velma a kiss, he leaves the apartment, locking up and trotting down the stairs, butterflies starting to dance in his stomach. He makes his way to the subway, stopping on the way to grab a nice bottle of red (well, nice for his budget) to go with Jay’s pot roast.

Settling in on the N Train, Harry recalls his first trip out to the Paynes’ house. It’s amazing how much can change in three days, he muses. That first night, he’d been filled with nerves and a good bit of dread, coming very close to just turning around and going home several times; tonight, however, the thought of family dinner had been something he’d looked forward to all day, ready for good food, lots of laughs, and good company.

With his fake family that with every passing day feels more and more like his actual family.

He’s still nervous tonight, of course, but this time for an entirely different reason. He hasn’t seen Louis since the night they walked home together, the pair of them apparently just missing each other at the hospital the past two days, according to Jay. It’s a good thing, though; the little bit of distance has allowed Harry to put that evening into perspective, chalking up his sudden rush of attraction to the magic of the moment. A fleeting moment. It didn’t _mean_ anything. It was a romantic _situation_ , with the streetlights and the hot dogs and the ice. It had absolutely nothing to do with Louis and his crinkly eyes and his bright laugh and his razor-sharp wit and the way he listens to every word Harry says as if they were the most important words in the world. Absolutely nothing. Hell, he probably would have wanted Grimmy to kiss him if they had been in the same kind of situation.

Well.

That’s taking things a little too far.

So that’s all it is, Harry resolves as the train comes to a stop at the Paynes’ station. All it _was._ Magic and moonlight and getting swept up in the moment. He doesn’t like _Louis._ That’s ridiculous.

Isn’t it?

Liam. He likes _Liam,_ Harry reminds himself. He pined after Liam for a _year,_ his daily appearances at the train station a bright spot in his otherwise pretty dull existence. Harry’s here because of Liam, not because of his brother, no matter how objectively perfect he may be. And Louis was just being nice to him that night, wasn’t he? He was just going a little overboard trying to make up for his (admittedly correct) assumptions; he just wanted to be friends with Harry, right? There’s no way Louis would be flirting with his brother’s fiancé; it’s all been in Harry’s head, so properly starved for genuine human connection that he’s misinterpreting everything.

Right?

Right.

Satisfied that he’s got it all worked out, Harry trots up the Paynes’ front steps and knocks on the door, smiling when he hears all the chaos inside. The door swings open a few moments later and all of Harry’s resolve falls away immediately; his mouth goes dry as Louis is revealed in the doorway, looking gorgeous in a pair of black jeans and a burgundy long-sleeve t-shirt, the scoop of the neck just deep enough to show a flash of collarbone and the hint of a fucking chest tattoo.

God, he’s so screwed.

“Hi,” Louis rasps, smiling softly.

“You shaved,” Harry blurts out, his eyes roving over Louis’ face.

Goddamn his brain to mouth filter, honestly.

“Oh,” Louis says bashfully, rubbing a hand over his smooth chin and cheek. “Yeah, I look like a fucking teenager, right?”

Wrong. Louis looks younger, yes, but the close shave just brings out the angularity of his handsome face.

“But it was at the point where it was like I should either commit to the beard or just shave already, you know?”

“No, I wouldn’t know,” Harry grins, mirroring Louis as he runs his hand over the bit of peach fuzz on his chin. “I’ve been growing this beard since I was 20.”

Louis fucking _giggles_ and Harry feels all warm and fluttery inside, laughing along with him.

Jesus, he’s got to get a grip.

“Well, are you coming in, Curly, or are you gonna stand out there on the stoop all night?” Louis asks once he gets his giggles under control.

“Oh,” Harry blushes, realizing that he’s just been standing there staring at Louis. “I guess I’ll come in. Since, you know, I came all this way and all. Here,” Harry says, handing Louis the black plastic bag containing the wine as he steps inside. “I come bearing wine.”

“Thanks,” Louis says, pulling the bottle out of the bag and examining it as Harry shrugs his coat off. “Hey, this is a nice brand!”

“Oh, well, you know me,” Harry jokes, hanging up his coat in the closet. “Big spender.”

“Kids, dinner’s on the table,” Geoff calls.

“Hi, Harry!” Ernie cries, running past him towards the dining room.

“Hi, Harry!” Doris echoes, right on the heels of her twin.

“Kids, what have I said about running in the house,” Jay scolds as she wipes her hands on her apron, scooting around Daisy and Phoebe, who’ve just emerged from the basement. “Oh, Harry, dear, you made it!”

“Hi,” Harry grins, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for having me.”

“Oh, of course, sweetheart, we’re happy to have you. Now, stand back and let me get a good look at this sweater on you.”

Harry takes a step back, doing a little twirl for good measure as Jay looks at him appraisingly.

“I just knew that color would look good on you,” Jay pronounces. “Louis, don’t you think it looks good on him?”

“Yep, looks great,” Louis replies, his voice a little strangled. “Hey, Mom, Harry brought wine!”

Harry looks at Louis curiously, but Louis avoids his gaze as he hands Jay the bottle of red, crumpling up the plastic bag in his fist.

“Oh, Harry, you didn’t have to do that,” Jay states, her hand sliding down his back as she guides him towards the dining room. “We’ve got too much wine already.”

“Is there such a thing?” Harry jokes, looking back at Louis over his shoulder questioningly. Louis smiles at him tightly.

What the hell?

Harry doesn’t have time to ponder Louis’ strange reaction as he’s ushered into the dining room, immediately swarmed by the rest of the family. He shakes Geoff’s hand, kisses Olive on the cheek, and hugs all of the siblings and Niall, reveling in the chaos as they all get settled around the table. Harry ends up in between Jay and Fizzy, Louis sitting directly across from him, in between Lottie and Niall. Geoff sits at the head of the table, saying a quick Grace before everyone dives in, passing steaming dishes of delicious-smelling food around.

“So, Harry,” Jay starts, pouring him a glass of wine. “Have you and Liam decided where you’re going to go on your honeymoon?”

Harry almost shares his plans for Florence but then he catches Louis’ eyes across the table as he heaps some mashed potatoes on his plate, and decides he wants to keep that just for them. Louis offers him a tiny smile as he passes the bowl of potatoes to Niall.

“Oh, um, not really,” Harry says, accepting the glass of wine. “It’ll probably be somewhere tropical though.”

“Liam does like tropical,” Jay nods. “He’s particularly fond of Jamaica.”

“We went to Hawaii,” Geoff says, buttering a roll and shooting a wink at Jay. “It’s really beautiful there. We’re going back in a few years for our thirtieth anniversary.”

Jay shares a private smile with Geoff. It punches Harry in the gut a bit, seeing how in love they still are after almost thirty years together.

“I went to Cuba,” Olive pipes up from the other end of the table. “Back when you could go to Cuba, that is.”

“Andy Garcia’s Cuban,” Niall says, apropos of nothing. “He was the best part of _The Godfather III_. Totally robbed of that Supporting Actor Oscar, in my opinion _.”_

“You’re insane,” Louis scoffs. “Over Joe Pesci in _Goodfellas?_ Absolutely not, Neil.”

“Didn’t Liam look great today?” Jay asks the table. “He’s looking so much better.”

“He’s such a handsome young man,” Olive gushes. “He really should have been an actor instead of a lawyer.”

“He’s tall enough to be an actor,” Niall says, spearing a carrot.

“You do talk some shit, Niall,” Louis snickers. “Tall enough to be an actor? Since when is that a requirement?”

“Swear jar!” Doris exclaims from the end of the table.

“Louis,” Jay warns.

Harry meets Louis’ eyes, biting back a giggle as he shakes his head disapprovingly. Louis rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips as he reaches for the bottle of wine.

“All the great actors are tall,” Niall insists.

“Harry, do you think you could find me a nice boy for Louis?” Jay asks.

“Oh, Mom, come on,” Louis groans, dropping his fork and running a hand through his messy hair. “Don’t do this, please.”

“What?” Jay protests. “You’ve been single for a good while now, I just want to see you happy!”

“I’m plenty happy, Mom,” Louis insists. “I don’t need a boyfriend to be happy.”

“I–I don’t know Louis’ type, anyway,” Harry says sheepishly, his cheeks heating up. “So I don’t know how much help I would be–”

“I like blonds,” Louis says breezily. “Lots of muscles, real bodybuilder types.”

Harry can’t help the stab of disappointment that shoots through him. Of course Louis likes hunky blonds. He looks down at his plate, attacking his (delicious) pot roast with a little too much vigor.

“Humphrey Bogart wasn’t tall,” Geoff says, pointing his fork at Niall.

“Liam Neeson is six foot four,” Niall counters.

“These mashed potatoes are so creamy,” Jay comments.

“You like brunets,” Lottie says, turning to Louis.

Harry looks up, eyes widening when he finds that Louis is already looking at him, his face stricken.

“I don’t–” Louis starts.

“Literally every guy you’ve ever dated has been a lanky brunet,” Lottie insists.

“I could never make a good pot roast,” Olive observes, taking a bite of her meat. “I was never able to get the meat this tender.”

“You need good beef,” Jay says. “And a good cast iron pot.”

“Argentina has good beef,” Niall says. “Beef and Nazis.”

“I mean, there was Aiden,” Lottie continues, holding her fingers up to emphasize her point. “And Greg, Hot Luke–”

“Okay, Lots,” Louis cuts her off, his voice strained and his face beet red. “No need to detail my entire dating history, Jesus Christ.”

“I’m just saying,” Lottie says with a wicked smile. “You like brunets, Louis.”

Harry bites back a grin as he turns his attention to his mashed potatoes, which are indeed very creamy.

“Niall, who else is tall?” Louis asks loudly.

“John Wayne was tall,” Geoff says helpfully.

“Dad, you were arguing the other side,” Fizzy says.

“Tom Cruise is five foot seven,” Niall says, easily flipping to the other side in the argument.

Harry looks up at Louis through his eyelashes; Louis smiles back sheepishly, the color fading from his cheeks.

“Would you really want to watch Tom Cruise save the Alamo though?” Geoff ponders.

“Oh, I think I’d watch Tom Cruise in anything,” Olive sighs dreamily. “He was so handsome when he wore that Navy uniform in...oh, goodness me, what was that movie a couple years ago?”

_“A Few Good Men,”_ Niall says, taking a sip of wine.

“Yes!” Olive exclaims. “I want the truth!”

“You can’t handle the truth!” Niall bellows dramatically.

Harry chokes on a sip of wine, the movie dialogue hitting just a little too close to home; he pounds on his chest, trying to cover it with a laugh. Louis’ eyebrows shoot straight up as he looks at Harry, his eyes twinkling with barely concealed amusement. Harry flushes, covering his mouth to keep from laughing aloud.

“These mashed potatoes are so creamy,” Jay comments again. “Doris helped mash them.”

Doris beams from the end of the table.

“Jack Nicholson is five-eleven,” Niall says, turning Geoff. “Would we call that tall?”

“I think I’d say that’s average?”

“Oh my God,” Fizzy mutters under her breath.

“Mom, you never let us see any of Tom Cruise’s movies,” Phoebe says suddenly.

“What, dear?”

“All of our friends got to see _A Few Good Men_ ,” Daisy chimes in. “But you wouldn’t let us!”

“And _Interview with the Vampire_!” Phoebe adds.

“Well, those are rated-R movies, girls,” Jay says simply. “You’re too young. _Especially_ for that vampire movie.”

“We’re seventeen now!” the twins protest. “That’s old enough to see rated-R movies by ourselves!”

“Okay, so we’ll go to Blockbuster and rent _A Few Good Men_ tomorrow then,” Jay acquiesces. “But I still think you’re too young for the other one.”

“I like that Nicole Kidman,” Olive says. “They make a nice couple, don’t they?”

“She has amazing hair,” Lottie pipes up. “I’m so jealous of those curls.”

Harry feels like he’s watching some sort of eight person ping-pong match, his eyes darting all over the table as he tries to keep up.

His eyes always end up on Louis, though, the two of them having their own private conversation, with not a word shared between them.

“Nicole Kidman’s Australian,” Niall says.

“Australia has good beef,” Geoff adds, looking over at Jay, who nods.

“She’s also tall,” Fizzy pipes up. “Nicole Kidman is five-eleven. Taller when she’s wearing heels. For a woman, that’s really tall.”

“Hey-o, Fiz!” Niall hoots, reaching across the table to give her a high five. “Welcome to the conversation.”

“Clint Eastwood is tall,” Geoff says.

“Clint Eastwood is not Australian, though,” Olive corrects.

“I never said he was Australian.”

“Then what did you say?”

“I said Clint Eastwood is tall,” Geoff repeats.

“We all know he’s tall,” Olive states, rolling her eyes.

“Well, that’s what I said,” Geoff shrugs, helping himself to more green beans.

The table falls silent and Harry can’t take it anymore, bursting out with a loud honking laugh; Louis follows close behind, dissolving into giggles, which only makes Harry laugh harder, clutching his stomach as tears spring to his eyes.

“What on earth?” Jay says, looking between the pair of them.

“What did I say?” Geoff questions.

“Clint Eastwood is tall!” Louis wheezes through his giggles, his eyes sparkling as he looks at Harry.

“Yeah, Clint Eastwood is tall,” Geoff repeats. “That’s all I said.”

********

“I really should get going,” Harry says a few hours later, after handily defeating Louis at Scrabble. Twice.

“Hey, you owe me a rematch, Curly!” Louis protests. “I still think you cheated!”

“Vibey isn’t a word, Lou,” Harry grins, heading into the foyer. “I won fair and square. Twice.”

“It is too a word!” Louis claims, following him. “I can even use it in a sentence. ‘That restaurant had a vibey atmosphere.’ Boom.”

“It’s slang,” Harry counters, getting his coat out of the closet and shrugging it on. “And it’s not in the Scrabble dictionary.”

“But–”

“Ignore him, Harry,” Lottie says mildly. “Louis’ just not used to losing. It’s a very new thing for him.”

“Harry, don’t forget your leftovers!” Jay calls. “Geoff, will you go grab them from the fridge?”

Geoff nods, heading back to the kitchen.

“Thank you so much for having me,” Harry says, hugging Jay tightly. “Dinner was delicious.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Jay replies. “Do you have plans for New Year’s Day? If not, we’ll want to see you. You like football, right? Geoff has big plans for the Rose Bowl.”

“I’ll let you know,” Harry replies. “See you tomorrow at the hospital? I was gonna go on my lunch break.”

“I’ll give you a call,” Jay says. “Get home safely.”

“I will,” Harry nods, taking the small tupperware container from Geoff. He waves at the small crowd now gathered in the foyer, everyone else still awake aside from Ernie and Doris.

“Hey, I could drive you,” Louis offers, walking Harry towards the door. “I only had the wine at dinner, I’m totally fine to drive if you don’t want to deal with the subway.”

“How dare you say that to a transit worker, Louis?” Harry gasps with mock outrage. “The subway is our most reliable form of transportation!”

“The subway is shit, Haz, and you know it,” Louis grins. “Really, it would be no problem to drive you–”

“Hey, look you two,” Lottie announces. “You’re standing under the mistletoe!”

Harry and Louis look up simultaneously. Sure enough, they are standing under the little sprigs of green, tied together with a red ribbon.

“Oh, that,” Louis says, his voice higher than normal as he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Well, go on, then,” Lottie smirks, her eyes dancing mischievously. “You know the rules.”

Harry’s heart starts to pound in his chest as he looks at Louis, who mirrors his panicked expression. He’s never wanted and _not_ wanted so much at the same time.

“I’m not kissing my brother’s fiancé,” Louis argues, his eyes shooting daggers at his sister. “He’ll know. And he’ll kill me.”

“Please,” Lottie scoffs. “It’s just a little mistletoe kiss. Just a peck for good luck. It’s not like you have to shove your tongue down his throat or anything.”

Oh. My. God. Harry’s face goes hot as all sorts of images start racing through his mind’s eye.

“She’s right, Louis,” Jay teases. “It _is_ bad luck if you don’t kiss him.”

“It’s Christmas!” Niall laughs easily. “You have to!”

“Just kiss him, you fool!” Olive catcalls.

Harry’s stomach starts doing somersaults as Louis turns to him, stepping into his space.

“Okay, Curly?” Louis asks lowly, only for Harry’s ears, as his blue eyes lock on Harry’s.

Harry swallows hard as Louis stills, not invading his space any further without Harry’s express permission.

“Okay,” Harry says breathily, his heart racing.

Louis leans in, brushing his lips over Harry’s. It’s quick, maybe half a second, Harry hardly having the time to register the feeling of Louis’ dry, but soft lips against his, and then it’s over. Harry barely stops himself from bringing his fingers to his lips to just make sure that it did indeed happen, that Louis _did_ just kiss him. Louis takes a big step back, shooting a murderous glance at his sister, who watches them with a wicked gleam in her eyes. Olive claps happily, completely oblivious to the tension.

“Oh, that was lovely,” she coos.

“Okay, I’m going to go,” Harry says quickly, opening the door and glancing at Louis out of the corner of his eye, taking in the blush on his high cheekbones and the way he’s pursing his lips tightly. “Thank you again for dinner.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” Jay answers, threading her arm through Geoff’s. “See you soon.”

“Looking forward to it,” Harry says, stepping outside. “Bye, Louis,” he adds quietly.

“Bye, Harry,” Louis rasps, not looking at him, just scuffing his socked feet on the floor.

Harry feels Louis’ eyes on him as he trots down the stairs; he only hears the door snick closed once he reaches the bottom, turning right to head towards the subway. He lets out a big breath, this time not stopping himself from bringing his fingers to his lips.

He’s so, so screwed.

********

The phone rings in Apartment 26G. Fluffy hops up on the counter, meowing loudly at it until the machine picks up.

“This is Liam Payne. Leave a message at the tone and I’ll return your call as soon as possible. Ciao.”

“Liam? It’s Zayn. Is this machine working? I’m kind of shocked you haven’t called me back. Look, I’m back in New York. Well, the Hamptons, anyway. I’ll be back in the city on the second. I’m assuming I’ll see you out here for Gigi’s Masquerade ball on New Year’s Eve? You’re coming, right? Anyway, I would really like to hear from you and I would also like to see my cat sooner rather than later. Call me, baby.”


	7. Chapter 7

Harry can’t deny the spring in his step the next morning. He walks to work instead of taking the bus and he can’t even find it in him to be annoyed at the New Year’s tourists flooding the streets, the anticipation of the next day’s celebrations already thrumming through the city. Just like every morning, he stops at the bodega for breakfast, but for the second time in a week, Harry changes up his order, opting for a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich and a hazelnut coffee. The cook’s eyebrows shoot straight up as he tosses the everything bagel back in the bin, grabbing two eggs and cracking them over the griddle instead.

Harry chuckles and rolls his eyes. It _would_ be the day he decides to change things up that this guy finally remembers his usual order.

Instead of eating his lunch in the same salad place around the corner from the station, Harry pops over to the hospital to see Liam and then has lunch in the cafeteria with Jay, Geoff, and both sets of twins. After work, Harry’s barely been home an hour before Niall calls him, inviting him out for drinks in the neighborhood. When he walks through the door of the Irish pub, he’s pleasantly surprised when it’s not just Niall, but Lottie and Fizzy as well. He casually asks if Louis will be joining them too, doing his best to mask his disappointment when Niall replies that Louis is working all night; Lottie smirks knowingly as she slides a beer over to Harry, settling down next to him in the booth. Which...Harry doesn’t know quite what to make of that. The four of them quickly falling into comfortable conversation, Harry soaking up every little bit of information as the sisters and Niall share embarrassing family stories. Before he knows it, it’s after midnight; Niall settles up the tab, refusing to take any of Harry’s money, insisting that it was his treat.

As he walks home, his belly warm from both the alcohol and the company, Harry realizes that he’s been so focused on just surviving his life from one day to the next, even after the haze of grief had started to lift, that he’s forgotten what it feels like to just _live_ his life, enjoying the moment that he’s in. It feels _good_ and Harry resolves that no matter what comes once Liam wakes up and he and the Paynes inevitably part ways, that he won’t go back to that kind of existence again.

New Year’s Eve day dawns clear and bright, the December air crisp and cold, but not bitter. Harry orders a blueberry muffin and a large latte for breakfast and settles into his booth, the hours of his short shift flying by. Before he even realizes it, his co-worker Leigh-Anne arrives for her afternoon shift, clutching a large cup of coffee in her perfectly manicured hand.  

“You’re coming to my party tonight, right, Harry?” Leigh-Anne asks once she is all situated on her side.

“Obviously,” Harry replies. “It’s been on the calendar for ages, _plus_ James gave me the next couple days off because of Christmas.”

“Good,” Leigh-Anne grins, sliding tokens across the counter as commuters deposit them in her window. “You won’t believe this punch Andre whipped up last night. It doesn’t even taste like booze, but I promise you, if you don’t drink water between every glass, you’ll be on the floor in an hour.”

“Duly noted,” Harry giggles, buzzing someone through the gates.

“We rented a karaoke machine,” Leigh-Anne continues, “and we have a ton of champagne for midnight, and plenty of party hats and noisemakers–”

“God,” Harry sighs, raking his fingers through his curls. “I can’t believe it’s New Year’s Eve already.”

“I know,” Leigh-Anne agrees. “1995 flew by, didn’t it?”

“It did and it didn’t,” Harry says, blowing out a big breath as he reflects on the year. “Jesus, I’m going to be thirty this year, Leigh. Just...1996, am I right?”

“Right,” Leigh-Anne laughs. “Before we know it, it will be the year 2000. When are we getting those flying cars and hoverboards from _Back to the Future II_ is all I’m saying.”

“We’ve still got a while for those,” Harry chuckles, mindlessly retrieving a token from the window, the action second-nature after so many years on the job. “That movie was set in 2015.”

“Oh, God,” Leigh-Anne groans, “we’ll be so old. We’ll be–”

“Don’t even,” Harry halts her, turning around and holding his hand up in front of her face. “I _just_ said I wasn’t ready to turn thirty, Leigh–”

“Two tokens, please,” a deep voice interrupts, followed quickly by girlish giggles.

Harry looks back over at his window, his eyes going wide when he sees the identical faces of Daisy and Phoebe Payne smiling back at him.

“Oh my God, you two!” Harry exclaims, glancing at Leigh-Anne, who’s eyeing the twins curiously. “What are you doing in this neck of the woods?”

“We were over at our friend’s house,” Daisy starts. “Up on 72nd Street–”

“But,” Phoebe interjects, “we knew you worked at this station–”

“So we decided to walk down here,” Daisy continues, “instead of getting the train there–”

“Just so we could say hi to you!” Phoebe finishes with a proud smile.

“That’s so nice,” Harry replies, genuinely touched. “Do you guys want to just come on through?”

“Can we?” the twins ask simultaneously.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Harry replies, pressing the button that lets them through the turnstile and then swinging the door of the booth open.

Phoebe and Daisy go through, turning the corner and stepping into the booth, the pair of them immediately tackling Harry with hugs. Leigh-Anne watches them with interest, her eyebrow arched.

“Who are your friends, Harry?”

“Oh,” Harry says, his cheeks heating. “Sorry, Leigh-Anne, I’m being rude. This is Phoebe and this is Daisy. They’re...well, they…”

Harry trails off, unsure how to finish his sentence. He’d never intended for his lie to bleed over to his actual life, and yet–

“Harry’s engaged to our brother!” Daisy supplies helpfully.

Shit.

“Harry,” Leigh-Anne gasps, her brown eyes the size of saucers. “You’re _engaged?”_

Shit, shit, shit.

“Um,” Harry gulps. “Yeah?”

Leigh-Anne lets out an ear-piercing shriek, jumping up out of her chair and smacking Harry on the shoulder.

“Harry!’ Leigh-Anne squeals, in a decibel he’s pretty sure should only be heard by dogs. “You’re getting married? What the hell? I didn’t even know you were seeing anybody and you’re getting _married,_ oh my God! Why didn’t you tell me, we sit next to each other almost every day!”

“Well, um,” Harry scrambles, “it’s still really new. Whirlwind romance, yeah? We _just_ told his family, so it would have been awkward to say anything before they kn–”

“But we’ve known for almost a week!” Phoebe says eagerly. “So you can start telling people. Mom and Dad want to throw an engagement party–”

The train rumbles into the station with a blast of cold air; Harry’s never been so grateful to the MTA’s timetable in his whole life.

“Train!” Harry says, ushering Phoebe out of the booth before she can say anything else. “You don’t want to miss the train!”

“Oh my God, Harry, you’re gonna start a family right away aren’t you?” Leigh-Anne coos dreamily as the twins step out onto the platform. “That’s why you’re getting married so fast, so you can adopt! You’ve always wanted kids.”

“The adoption agency is fast tracking our application,” Harry says drily. “If all goes well, we should have a baby by next Christmas.”

_“Oh my God, are you serious?”_ Leigh-Anne squeals, hopping up and down as she grabs his arm. “A baby!”

“Of course I’m not serious,” Harry replies, rolling his eyes. “We just got engaged! There isn’t even a date for the wedding yet.”

Harry tries not to think about how easily he’s able to maintain the premise that he’s engaged. He figures that once Liam wakes up and this entire mess is cleaned up, he can just tell Leigh-Anne that they broke up and they can have a wine and ice cream fest and never speak of it again.

“So let’s go back to the beginning, then,” Leigh-Anne says, sitting back in her chair.

“My shift is over,” Harry observes, hoping to dodge the question. “I need a nap before your party–”  

“Oh, come on, you can stay a little Iate, can’t you?” Leigh-Anne begs, batting her eyes. “Please? I need all the details, Harry. Tell me how you met.”

Harry sits back down with a resigned sigh. Really, in the grand scheme of things, how much more can one little white lie hurt? It’s not like Leigh-Anne knows the Paynes or will ever meet any of them ever again.

“It was actually right here at this booth,” Harry starts.

********

Harry stands in front of his mirror, fluffing his curls as he ponders his outfit choice. He so rarely gets to dress up, his day to day wardrobe usually consisting of his uniform and whatever comfortable clothes he puts on as soon as he gets home, so when he _does_ get to dress nicely, he likes to make a statement. Tonight he’s gone with a pair of basic black slacks to complement the true statement of his outfit, the slightly oversized cobalt blue Hawaiian blouse patterned with pink, gold, and pale green flowers. He studies his reflection critically and then pops two more buttons open, smiling in satisfaction at his silver cross necklace glinting in between his pecs.

If there’s ever a time to show a little skin, it’s New Year’s Eve, right?

Harry shrugs on a black blazer to complete the outfit and then grabs a pair of black boots before heading to the living room, where Velma watches him from her perch on the couch.

“This looks good, yeah?” Harry asks her, sitting down next to her.

Velma meows, butting her head against his thigh, leaving a swath of orange hairs in her wake.  

“Thanks for that,” Harry chuckles, brushing the cat hair away and pulling on one of his boots. “Glad you approve.”

Someone knocks at the door.

“Who is it?” Harry calls as he tugs his other boot on.

“It’s Grimmy!”

Harry sighs heavily.

“I’m not home,” Harry calls hopefully.

“Hey, I know that trick!” Nick protests.

Harry stays silent, absently stroking Velma’s belly, hoping that Nick just takes the hint.

“You know,” Nick says after a long moment. “Pop has a set of your keys, Harry! I could ask him for them.”

“Ugh,” Harry groans, hefting himself off the couch and striding towards the door. “That’s illegal, Grim, and you know it!”

Harry swings open the door, revealing Nick in the hallway, partially obscured by a giant wreath of red and white roses.

“Ta-da!” Nick exclaims, holding up the flowers, the party hat perched precariously on his head tipping forward. “I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who designs the flowers at the Belmont Stakes. I asked for the winner’s circle arrangement. What do you think?”

“They’re beautiful,” Harry admits reluctantly. “But, Nick, you know I can’t accept them, right? It just wouldn’t be fair to you, you know? I don’t want to–”

“You know, I could move in here,” Nick says, suddenly earnest. “If we were together, that is. I betcha Pop would knock a couple hundred bucks off the rent.”

“Nick,” Harry says gently. “You’re a nice guy, but...it’s not gonna happen with us. I’m really sorry.”

Nick’s shoulders slump as he lowers the flowers.

“It’s that other guy isn’t?” Nick asks glumly.

“What other guy?”

“Aw, c’mon, Harry,” Nick scoffs. “You know who I’m talking about. The little guy.”

“Give him a break,” Harry mumbles, scuffing his boot on the floor. “He’s not _that_ much shorter than me.”

“Anyway, I know it’s him,” Nick says sagely. “I saw the way you looked at him.”

“How did I look at him?” Harry asks curiously.

“Like you just saw your first set of subwoofers,” Nick sighs dreamily.

Harry blushes. He’s not quite sure what subwoofers are, but from the tone of Nick’s voice, he knows they must be good.

And that he must be very, very obvious when it comes to Louis Tomlinson.

“You know Meshach in 4B is single,” Harry says after a moment. “And I have it on very good authority that he’s always been interested in you.”

“You mean the best-looking guy on the fourth floor?” Nick asks, as a couple passes behind him in the hall, clattering down the stairs. “Now, Harry, you’re just being nice. There’s no way he’d like me.”

“I’m just saying,” Harry teases, punching his shoulder. “You should give it a shot. Start with something small. No winner’s circle flowers, yeah? Just ask him for coffee or something.”

“Maybe I will. It can be my New Year’s Resolution or something.”

“Definitely,” Harry nods. “Only good choices in 1996.”

“Aw, come on, then,” Nick urges, thrusting the large wreath forward. “Just take them, Harry. I got them for you, and they shouldn’t go to waste. No expectations, I promise.”

“Okay,” Harry allows, maneuvering the wreath into his living room. “Thank you.”

Harry leans in for a hug, wrapping his arms around Nick’s neck and squeezing tightly.

“Happy New Year, Harry,” Nick says into his shoulder.

“Happy New Year, Nick,” Harry replies, pulling back. “Big plans later?”

“Pop’s throwing a party for the building,” Nick replies. “I’m actually–”

“Nicky!” Nick Sr. calls from downstairs. “We need your equipment set up now!”

“DJ-ing,” Nick finishes sheepishly. “You gonna swing by?”

“I might,” Harry hedges. “I have a co-worker’s party to hit, but if I know anything about your parties, I’m sure it will still be going well into the morning.”

“Nicky!” Nick Sr. shouts again.

“I’m coming, Pop!” Nick shouts back.

Harry giggles as Nick rolls his eyes, turning to trot down the stairs. He waves goodbye as he shuts his door, leaning back against it and blowing out a big breath.

That was easier than he thought it would be.

His eyes fall of the cheap bottle of vodka Leigh-Anne asked him to grab for the punch and he checks his watch. It’s the perfect time for him to be fashionably late, but not so late that it’s evident that he was trying to be fashionably late. He bundles up in his coat and scarf and grabs the bottle of vodka, blowing a kiss to Velma. It’s time to see 1995 off in style.

********

Louis trudges up the cleared walkway, muttering under his breath like a crazy person, trying to work out what he’s even going to say when he sees Harry. Just as he reaches the step, he looks up at the couple holding the door open for him, about to thank them, but the words die on his lips as he glances inside the building. That guy, that Nicky Jr. or Grimmy or whoever the fuck he is, is hugging Harry at the top of the stairs. And despite Harry’s protests, his previous laughter at the possibility, it sure looks from here like he’s inviting it.

Reeling, Louis backs up, shaking his head apologetically at the couple. He paces back and forth in the courtyard, carding his fingers through his hair as he tries to process what he thinks he just saw. He’s a mess, and he knows he’s a mess; he should just get in his car and go to the party Niall is throwing but he can’t manage to make himself do it.

He has to talk to Harry first.

The whole family had been shocked and then immediately overjoyed when Daisy and Phoebe had come home that afternoon announcing that Liam and Harry were adopting a baby. The room had immediately flown into chaos, his parents demanding where Daisy had gotten the information and how could she possibly know that and why hadn’t Harry _told_ them about plans for their new grandchild. The rest of the siblings, save for Lottie, who had just shot him a sympathetic look, immediately flew into name debates and whether Liam and Harry should have a boy or girl.

Louis just felt like he’d been sucker punched.

He’d quietly slipped out of the house, knowing Lottie would have his back once everyone realized he was missing. He just needed to get out and clear his head. Even though New Year’s Eve was the worst possible time for it, he’d just starting driving around aimlessly, trying to figure out why the fuck he was so upset in the first place.

It had taken a while but, somewhere around Shea Stadium, the thoughts swirling around his brain started to take shape and Louis could put them in some semblance of order. It’s not the fact that Liam and Harry are going to be parents. Not really. Except it _is,_ because that makes Liam and Harry the real thing and not some whirlwind romance that will inevitably fall apart once all the parties involved finally started seeing things clearly.

As clearly as Louis is starting to see things. The realization that that’s the exact scenario he’s been hoping for deep down settles in and a pit grows in Louis’ stomach. Christ, he’s a complete shit. Only a complete shit would be selfish enough to hope that his own brother’s engagement would fall apart just because he’s falling for his fiancé.

Because, despite his best efforts to stop it, that was exactly what was happening. The more time Louis spent with Harry, the more sure he was that the universe had made some sort of colossal mistake when it allowed Harry to meet and fall in love with Liam first. He was sure that Harry felt it too, the strangely instant chemistry between them, the way sparks would shoot up Louis’ spine every time they touched. The other night at family dinner, Louis had been certain that Harry could see it from the way their eyes would meet over the table to the way they seemed to be able to communicate without saying a single word.

But it was clearly just wishful thinking, all of it probably brought on by the fact that Louis couldn’t remember the last time someone had grabbed his attention the way Harry did. But, like it or not, Harry’s going to marry his brother and start a family with him and Louis needs to get the fuck over himself. End of story.

Satisfied that he had it all sorted out, Louis blinked away tears and turned his blinker on, resolved to turn around and go home to help Niall get ready for his party. But instead of making the turn he needed to, he found himself turning towards the Triborough Bridge, braving the New Year’s Eve traffic into Manhattan, telling himself he needs to hear the news from Harry because that’s the only thing that will make this all real and nip his feelings in the bud.

Which brings him right here to this moment in Harry’s courtyard, after a couple of hours in bumper to bumper traffic, that is. He’d had to loop up through Harlem because of road closures in Midtown, drive all the way to the opposite side of Manhattan to get to the West Side Highway, and then drive another eighty blocks down to Hell’s Kitchen, only to battle for any kind of decent parking space. This moment where a couple held the door of Harry’s building open as they were leaving and Louis looked up to see Harry and Nick fucking Grimshaw Jr. at the top of the stairs locked in a way too friendly-looking embrace. His heart can’t take being thrown for another loop like this, quite frankly. Even though Harry swore there was nothing going on with them, it sure didn’t look like nothing, not from Louis’ perspective. So what does _that_ mean?

He really needs to go the fuck home. Or better yet, he needs to go back to Astoria and go to Niall’s party and get spectacularly drunk so he can forget this entire debacle. What the fuck does he think he’s doing? This is a mistake and he needs to–

“Louis?”

Louis looks up to find Harry standing on the stoop clutching a paper bag in his arms, the tell-tale neck of a bottle of liquor sticking out of the top. A bewildered smile is on his face, that fucking left dimple carving a crater in his cheek, and his curls are backlit by the wall light mounted next to the door, making them look like a wild, golden-brown halo.

He’s so beautiful Louis wants to cry.

“Hey, Haz,” Louis rasps.

He has _got_ to stop with the nicknames, that’s the first thing that has to go.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks, the dimple on his cheek deepening. “I thought you’d be at Niall’s?”

“Yeah, well,” Louis fumbles, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Hey, you’re going to a party, aren’t you?”

“No, this vodka is all for me,” Harry deadpans. “Just a typical Sunday night, y’know.”

Louis barks a slightly hysterical laugh, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his shearling coat. Harry looks at him, bemused, a little crinkle forming between his eyebrows.

“My friend Leigh-Anne is having a party,” Harry states. “I was just on my way there, do you–”

“Great!” Louis says loudly. “I can drive you!”

“No, really, it’s just around the – wait a minute, did you _drive_ here?” Harry asks incredulously. “On New Year’s Eve? Are you completely insane?”

“It’s entirely possible,” Louis admits, sweeping his hair off his forehead.

Harry scrunches his nose as he bites back a grin, his cute little bunny teeth digging into his plush bottom lip. He sweeps his large hand through his curls, fluffing up the ends.

Louis is so fucked.

“So, um, my party really is right around the corner,” Harry says after a moment. “Do you want to come with me?”

No. Absolutely not. The last thing Louis should be doing is going to a New Year’s party with Harry Styles where there will be champagne and crowded spaces and midnight kisses. Louis should just ask him what he came to ask and then go the fuck to Niall’s.

“Sure,” Louis says instead. “A party would be perfection.”

Oh my _God._

“Are you okay?” Harry asks, looking over at Louis as he strolls down the sidewalk, dodging already tipsy revelers.

“I’m great!” Louis replies brightly, his voice pinched. “Totally great, why wouldn’t I be great?”

“I don’t know,” Harry says, looking at him skeptically. “You just seem a little off is all.”

“No, no, no,” Louis dismisses, lengthening his strides to keep up with Harry. “I’m fine!”

“Okay,” Harry drawls. “I still think you’re being weird. Did something happen?”

“No!” Louis scrambles. “I’m...I’m not being weird.”

“You are, though.”

They walk in silence, turning onto 48th Street. They stop at a building about halfway up the block, Harry ringing the buzzer as he looks at Louis, his eyes confused.

“Seriously, Louis, what’s going on?” Harry presses. “Why are you here? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but–”

“What about Liam?” Louis asks, the words spilling from his lips before he can stop them.

“What _about_ Liam?” Harry questions, the furrow between his brows deepening.

“I’m just saying that Liam is gonna have a lot to deal with when he wakes up, isn’t he?”

“What?” Harry asks. “I don’t–”

Harry is interrupted by the door swinging open, revealing a gorgeous girl with warm brown skin and glitter strands woven into her long, black braids. She’s wearing a pair of 1996 novelty glasses and clutching a plastic champagne glass filled with purple punch in her hand.

“Harry!” she cries. “You made it!”

“Hi, Leigh-Anne,” Harry smiles, thrusting the bag of vodka forward. “This is Louis, my–”

Leigh-Anne turns to Louis, letting out a squeal of delight.

“Oh my God, hi,” Leigh-Anne exclaims, taking Louis’ hand and shaking it vigorously. “It’s so good to meet you, I can’t believe Harry’s been hiding you away!”

“Wha–” Louis asks, turning to Harry, who’s shaking his head furiously at Leigh-Anne, his eyes wide.

“Hey, everyone!” Leigh-Anne calls into the foyer, where people are spilling out of her first floor apartment. “Harry and his fiancé are here!”

_Oh, shit._

Louis inhales sharply, turning his back to the door, fully intending to just make a break for it because if there’s _one_ thing he can’t do tonight, it’s be mistaken for Harry’s fiancé all night. It’s just...too much. Harry stops him, grabbing his bicep and squeezing firmly.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Harry,” Louis protests through clenched teeth, a panicked smile on his face. “I’m not your fiancé!”

“I’m well aware, Lou,” Harry replies, as partygoers start to swarm them, pulling them inside as they offer their congratulations. “I’ll fix it, don’t worry. I just need a drink first. You look like you could use one yourself.”

Harry tugs him inside, his grip still firm on Louis’ bicep. Louis exhales shakily, his heart thudding in his chest as he nods at Harry, who almost immediately gets pulled away by a short, plump man with sandy hair and kind face.

“Harry!” Louis squeaks in panic. “Don’t leave me!”

“You’ll be fine,” Harry assures him over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back, I just need to clear things up!”

Louis is immediately surrounded by excited guests, most of whom he assumes are Harry’s coworkers. Leigh-Anne takes his coat, introducing him to her boyfriend Andre and her best friend Perrie, who immediately start peppering him with questions. Louis smiles, offering vague answers as he tries to catch Harry’s eyes across the room. Harry’s in deep conversation with the sandy-haired man though, gesturing wildly as he shrugs off his coat, tossing it on top of a pile on a chair in the corner of the living room. Louis’ mouth goes dry as he takes in Harry’s outfit, the bright blue Hawaiian shirt under his black blazer almost completely unbuttoned, revealing an obscene amount of smooth, porcelain skin that Louis finds he just wants to taste and mark up until every person at this party knows that Harry is _his._

Even if he’s not.

Harry tucks a curl behind his ear, finally glancing over at Louis, anxiety written all over his face as he smiles at him tightly. Louis smiles back at him, trying to assure Harry that he’s okay.

Even though he is decidedly not.

Harry nods and turns back to the man, who waves at Louis, a smug smile on his face. Despite his discomfort, Louis almost laughs as something the man says makes Harry turn bright red, gently shoving his shoulder. Harry shakes his head, his eyebrows knit together as he sighs, flipping his hair back and scrunching the ends up.

What on earth could they be talking about?

Finally, Harry stomps his foot in obvious annoyance as the man laughs; he spins on his heel and makes a beeline towards the massive punchbowl.

Yes. Right. A drink. Excellent plan.

Louis smiles and excuses himself from the conversation he wasn’t even listening to in the first place, gesturing towards Harry and the drink table.

“Harry,” the man calls after Harry with laughter. “They have doctors for this kind of thing, you know!”

Harry shoots the man the bird as he reaches the punchbowl.

“A doctor?” Louis asks in concern, elbowing around a couple grinding against each other in time to the pounding bass of music blasting over the speakers. He reaches Harry’s side just as he fills a clear plastic cup with purple punch. Leaning in towards Harry, Louis raises his voice so he can be heard over the loud music. “Are you sick or something?”

“What?” Harry asks, shaking his head. “No. He’s...he’s just making a joke. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

Harry brings his glass to his lips, tilting his head back as he starts chugging down the punch. Louis gulps as his eyes drift down the long, elegant line of Harry’s neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drinks the punch down, not stopping till he reaches the bottom of his cup.

“Have a drink, Lou,” Harry says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and shuddering. “It’s a party. C’mon.”

Harry hands Louis a cup and ladles some punch into it before refilling his own glass.

“Cheers,” Harry croaks, clinking their glasses together before taking a big gulp.

Louis tentatively lifts his cup to his mouth, the pungent smell of vodka, rum, and gin burning his nostrils. He looks up at Harry, who raises his eyebrows at him, waving his hand to urge Louis to just take a drink already. Louis raises his glass in a salute and then takes a big gulp, the sickly sweet drink causing his stomach to churn in protest.

“Jesus,” Louis sputters. “This is like pure alcohol, Haz.”

“Thank God,” Harry coughs, pounding his chest before taking another gulp.

“Hey, hey, slow down, tiger,” Louis says, gently touching Harry’s wrist. “You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

“So?” Harry challenges, raising an eyebrow. He leans in towards Louis’ ear, close enough to where Louis can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Isn’t that the point of New Year’s Eve, after all? Drink up, Lou.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Louis grins, taking a step away from Harry, his proximity more intoxicating than the disgusting concoction in his hand. He braves another sip, the taste of the punch much less shocking now that he knows what’s coming. “Besides, I imagine nights like this are going to be pretty few and far between for you pretty soon.”

“What?” Harry asks, polishing off his second glass of punch. “I can’t really hear you over the music.”

“I said, I imagine nights like this are going to be pretty few and far between for you pretty soon!” Louis says louder, taking another sip of his drink.

“Why?” Harry practically shouts, reaching for the ladle to refill his cup for the third time.

“I just mean that it will be hard to do this when the baby comes,” Louis shouts.

Like some sort of moment out of a nightmare, the music cuts out right as Louis brings up the baby; Louis wishes the floor would just open up and swallow him whole. The room falls silent as Harry drops the ladle into the punchbowl with a clatter, sending a splash of the purple liquid to the floor. He turns to Louis, his eyes wide.

“Wh-what did you just say?”

********

“Harry, wait up!” Louis shouts from behind him. “Could you slow down?”

Harry storms down the sidewalk, not even bothering to check whether it’s icy or clear, determined to put as much space between him and the party as he can. The pounding music fades the longer he walks, but the pounding in his head only worsens. That punch was fucking potent and went straight to his head. He really should have eaten more before drinking that much that fast.

Still, that wasn’t the main reason he couldn’t stand being at the party anymore. No. That reason is currently chasing him down Tenth Avenue, his shorter legs having a hard time keeping up with Harry’s furious strides.

“Harry, please!”

Harry stops, sighing heavily as he waits for Louis to catch up with him. He starts walking again as soon as Louis does, not bothering to shorten his steps.

“Look,” Louis says breathlessly, trying to keep pace. “Um, this whole evening didn’t work out at all how I’d planned for it to–”

“Oh, really?” Harry snaps, turning the corner. “And am I supposed to share any responsibility in that?”

“No!” Louis cries desperately. “It’s just – look, can you slow down and talk to me? Let me explain.”

“What is there to explain?” Harry says, slowing down once he finally reaches the brick walls surrounding his courtyard. The Grimshaws’ party has spilled out into it, the crisp air clearly made more bearable by the sheer amount of alcohol being passed around. “You just announced to all of my friends that I was adopting a baby, Louis!”

“It was just a little misunderstanding,” Louis wheezes, following Harry into the courtyard.

Harry arches an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, it was a _big_ misunderstanding,” Louis amends. “I’m sorry, Haz. My head’s just a bit of a mess between that and then there was the whole Nick Jr. thing–”

“Excuse me?” Harry squawks, whirling around to look at Louis, who stops in his tracks. “What about Nick? Louis, I _told_ you there was nothing going on there–”

“I know you did! It’s...it’s nothing,” Louis fumbles. “Forget it.”

“Oh no, Louis,” Harry huffs, resting back against the courtyard wall and crossing his arms across his chest. “There is no _nothing._ Not right now. What are you talking about?”

“The...ah...the leaning thing,” Louis says lamely, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“The leaning thing?” Harry parrots, confused.

“Yeah,” Louis says a little more confident. “The leaning thing.”

“Ooooookay,” Harry drawls skeptically. “What do you mean by ‘the leaning thing’? Enlighten me.”

“It’s just...I saw you two together tonight and–”

“What?” Harry asks, pinching the bridge of his nose before it clicks in his brain. “Oh, when Nick came to my door earlier?”

“Yeah, I–”

“Oh my God, he just gave me flowers, Louis,” Harry sputters in exasperation. “That’s all. I told him things were never going to happen between us, I tried to set him up with a guy on the fourth floor, and then I hugged him. Give me a break–”

“He gave you flowers and then you leaned,” Louis corrects, taking a step towards him.

“And then I _leaned?”_

“Yes,” Louis confirms, his blue eyes laser focused on him as he takes another step closer. “You _leaned_ , Harry.”

“Okay,” Harry says patiently, a smile tugging at his lips as his anger melts away into genuine curiosity. “How did I lean when I leaned?”

“How were you leaning?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies boldly, even as butterflies start dancing around in his stomach. “Why don’t you show me?”

 

Louis’ eyes widen in surprise; Harry tilts his chin stubbornly as Louis freezes where he stands.

“Well?” Harry challenges. “How did I lean, Louis?”

“It’s a lot different than hugging, you see,” Louis explains. “Hugging involves arms and hands–”

“Okay–”

“Leaning is whole bodies moving in like this,” Louis says, suddenly closing the last bit of distance between them, leaning forward and resting his hand on the brick wall over Harry’s shoulder, effectively caging him in.

Harry swears his heart stops and instantly restarts, going twice the speed it was before.

“Leaning involves _wanting...”_

Louis’ intense gaze sends a shiver shooting down Harry’s spine. He gets a whiff of Louis’ subtle cologne as he leans in closer; he smells like freshly cut wood and musk and a hint of spice and Harry’s cock gives a twitch of interest in his slacks as he breathes him in.

“...and accepting.”

Heart racing in his chest, Harry’s breath hitches, his tongue darting out unconsciously to wet his lips; Louis’ eyes track the movement as he mirrors the action. Louis releases a shuddery breath, looking up at Harry through his long eyelashes. Harry feels like a rubber band pulled completely taut, the tension in his body threatening to snap at any moment. Louis’ eyes flit back down to Harry’s lips and then back up to his eyes. Harry’s thoughts are vacillating between panic and pure _need_ so fast he can hardly keep up; all he knows is that he’s never wanted anything so much in his whole life, the faint brush of lips from their previous mistletoe kiss not _nearly_ enough to satisfy him. Harry sighs, his lips parting in anticipation; Louis reaches out with his other hand, his fingers shaking as he gently brushes a curl behind Harry’s ear.

“Leaning,” Louis murmurs, his breath ghosting over Harry’s lips as Harry’s eyes slip closed.

“Hey, Harry!” Nick shouts drunkenly from over by the fountain. “Is he bothering you?”

Harry feels rather than sees Louis leap back from him as if he’d been scalded.

“No,” Harry sighs in disappointment, his eyes fluttering open. “No, I’m fine!”

Louis looks at him, clearly stunned, his hand scrubbing down his pale face.

“Okay,” Nick slurs. “Are you sure though? ’Cause he was definitely leaning.”

Louis shakes himself out of his stupor, looking over at Nick and then back at Harry, waving his hand in the air.

“See?” Louis says smugly, in spite of his voice wavering. “ _Leaning.”_

“I’ll be right over here if you need me, Harry!” Nick shouts.

“Okay, thank you very much, Nick!”

“And you,” Nick calls, pointing at Louis, who turns to face him. “You watch yourself. I know karate.”

Louis looks back at Harry, his eyes wide. Harry can’t help but giggle at the expression on his face, the tension of the moment fizzing away. Louis huffs a laugh, carding his fingers through his hair and then sweeping it aside.

“Sorry about that,” Harry smiles softly.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Louis assures him. “It’s for the best that he...you know…”

Harry’s slightly addled brain finally catches up with his overeager heart and dick.

Oh, fuck.

They’d almost kissed. And he’s supposed to be engaged. To Louis’ brother.

“Yeah,” Harry whispers, his cheeks heating.

Louis looks at him for a long time, his expression unreadable.

“Okay,” Harry says finally, the evening’s events rushing back to him. “So what about the other thing?”

“The other thing?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, the other thing,” Harry says, licking his lips. “That other misunderstanding.”

“Oh, that,” Louis says airly, kicking at an errant lump of ice.

“Why did you think Liam and I were getting a baby?”

“Well, ah,” Louis replies, rubbing a hand across his stubbled cheek. “Daisy and Phoebe said they heard you say something like that.”

“And you believed them?” Harry asks incredulously.

“I didn’t have any reason not to,” Louis admits. “And that just...well, I have to admit, that threw me for a loop, you know? It’s what I was coming to talk to you about in the first place–”

“Why did it throw you, Louis?” Harry presses, his stomach doing a little flip. “Why did it make you get in your car and drive to Hell’s Kitchen on New Year’s fucking Eve?”

“You know, Dick Clark should really consider renaming his show to that,” Louis jokes lamely.

“Louis,” Harry says gently.

Louis stares at the ground, shifting his weight back and forth.

“Is it really that unreasonable that Liam and I would want to start a family?” Harry asks. “Is there some reason that’s so strange?”

“It’s just,” Louis struggles. “It’s just really fast, Harry. Kids are a serious commitment–”

Harry sighs, suddenly exhausted.

“Good night, Louis,” he clips, walking towards his front door.

“The fact of the matter is,” Louis calls after him. “You’re not really Liam’s type!”

“Oh, really,” Harry says, whirling back around. “Then whose type am I, Lou?”

Harry looks at Louis imploringly, willing him to just say something, _anything_ about what he’s thinking or feeling. Louis doesn’t answer, he just looks back at him, torment etched on his face as he stands frozen in place, completely silent.

“Okay, then,” Harry huffs, turning back around and starting towards the door again.

“Look, it’s a great idea, you and Liam,” Louis scrambles after him. “It’s just not an obvious one, that’s all–”

“You know what, Louis?” Harry cuts him off sharply. “I had a really shitty Christmas. You _just_ managed to kill my New Year’s. Tell you what: I’m turning thirty on February first. If you’re in the mood, why don’t you come back and just burn my apartment down?”

“Harry, wait!” Louis exclaims, desperation in his voice. “Come on–”  

“What do you want from me, Louis?” Harry demands, throwing his hands in the air.

“I want you...to not be unhappy,” Louis hedges.

“And who are you, the happiness police, Lou? Are _you_ happy?” Harry snarls. “Because I don’t think you are.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means I don’t recall you having had any sort of conversation with Geoff about the business, Louis. I mean, you _do_ want to leave, right? That was what all that stuff the other night was about, right? You being afraid to tell him? Or is this just another one of our famous miscommunications we’re having here?”

“Hey,” Louis growls fiercely, his face reddening in anger. “What do _you_ know about my family, Harry? Spending a week with them doesn’t make you an expert.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harry spits. “Spending a lifetime with them doesn’t make _you_ one either.”

Harry turns on his heel, stepping through the open front door of the building, dodging one of his drunken neighbors on the stairs.

“Well, I know that keeping your family happy is complicated, Harry,” Louis insists, following him up the steps, clearly not content with Harry having the last word. “Would your mother be happy knowing that you’ve spent the past two years sitting in a token booth, planning vacations that you’re never going to take?”

Harry recoils as if Louis had physically slapped him, tears immediately springing to his eyes.

“Oh fuck,” Louis gasps, his face paling. “Harry, I’m so sor–”

“Don’t,” Harry chokes, his throat suddenly tight and his chin trembling as he fights the tears. “Don’t say another word.”

Louis nods, gnawing on his bottom lip as he looks up at Harry, anguish and regret evident in his eyes. The tears spill over despite Harry’s best efforts, and he sees Louis flinch towards him, stopping himself from reaching out at the last second.

“Harry,” Louis whispers after a long moment. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have–”

“The thing is you’re right,” Harry sniffles, wiping the tears from his cheeks as he reaches for his keys, furiously shoving them into the lock. “She wouldn’t be happy at all. She would be devastated. But you have no fucking idea what it’s like to be alone, Louis. Absolutely none.”

“Hey, you’re not alone,” Louis soothes awkwardly. “You have Liam.”

Louis’ words strike the winning blow, an unknowing knife right to the gut.

“I don’t have anybody,” Harry corrects tearfully.

He hears the crowd outside start to count down from ten, illegal firecrackers going off. Harry looks at Louis as the crowd finally reaches one, cheers of joy and laughter ringing out as people start singing Auld Lang Syne.

“Happy New Year, Louis,” Harry says softly, the tears flowing freely now.

He slips into his apartment, not waiting for an answer.

********

Jade pauses, leaning against the door frame of Liam Payne’s room to watch the ball drop on the television mounted over the nurse’s station. Her nightly rounds can wait until next year; it’s only a ten-second countdown.

“Three...two...one,” she cheers along with the small cluster of night nurses gathered around the TV, confetti and noisemakers in hand. “Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year, Jade!” Jesy calls from behind the desk, tossing some confetti in the air.

“Happy New Year, Jes,” Jade smiles. “You’re cleaning all of that up, y’know.”

“I know, I know,” Jesy laughs. “It’s not New Year’s without confetti though, right? Even if we’re stuck here, we should still get to party!”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Jade dismisses, waving her hand in the air. “New Year’s Eve is quite possibly the worst holiday that exists. Dani was more than happy to get the pass to just stay at home tonight when I got scheduled to work.”

“Yeah, it’s the worst in this neighborhood too,” Jesy nods. “At least we’re up here on a nice quiet floor and not down in the ER where it’ll get crazy. ”

“Amen,” Jade states, tapping the door frame with her clipboard. “I should get back to my rounds. Quiet floor or not, I’ve still got work to do. Check in with you later?”

Jesy nods cheerfully. Jade heads into room 505, going straight to the myriad of machines hooked up to Liam, checking and adjusting his IV drip, then taking note of his steady heartbeat and blood pressure. She studies the long strip of paper monitoring his brain waves, eyebrows shooting up at the amount of increased activity since she last checked on him.

“Are you waking up, Mr. Payne?” Jade asks quietly.

No response.

Jade sighs, scribbling her notes on Liam’s chart, taking special care to notate the increased brain activity for Dr. Higgins. She hangs the chart back up on the wall and turns back to Liam, adjusting his blankets and smoothing them over his chest, giving him a little pat.

Liam groans softly.

“Mr. Payne?” Jade gasps, looking down at him.

Liam’s eyes blink open as he groans again.

“Well, hello there, Mr. Payne,” Jade soothes, rubbing his shoulder and squeezing his bicep. “Welcome back. There are so many people who are going to be happy to see you.”

No sooner were the words out of Jade’s mouth than her mind started racing.

Harry.

She has to call Harry and warn him.

“I’m going to go page your doctor,” Jade says calmly, her eyes focused on Liam’s confused face, his eyes already drooping sleepily. “Everything is going to be just fine, Mr. Payne, I promise.”

Liam nods, his eyes drifting shut with a sigh. Jade slowly backs out of the room, not wanting to startle him. She scrambles over to the nurses station as soon as she reaches the door.

“Jesy, get Dr. Higgins on the phone immediately,” Jade says urgently, reaching for the courtesy phone on the counter. “Liam Payne is awake.”

“Oh my God!” Jesy exclaims, pressing a button on her massive phone console, lifting the receiver to her ear. “Are you serious?”

“Very,” Jade says, punching in Harry’s number. “I’m calling his fiancé, can you get his family on the phone next?”

“Of course,” Jesy says quickly. “They’re going to be so relieved!”

Jade drums her nails on the counter as Harry’s number rings and rings until his answering machine finally picks up, beeping twice indicating the machine is full.

“Dammit, Harry,” Jade mutters, redialing his number. “You gotta pick up, hon. What are we going to do?”


	8. Chapter 8

Harry’s stomach churns as he steps into the elevator, the three cups of coffee he’d had that morning threatening to reappear as he presses five with a shaky finger.

This is it.

He’d slept terribly, tossing and turning all night, much to Velma’s dismay, the cat literally laying on top of him in an attempt to get him to settle down. When he did manage to sleep, his dreams were all kinds of fucked up, with images of his mom and Louis and being buried alive under an avalanche of subway tokens cycling through his subconscious. He’d finally given up at around five that morning, taking a long, hot shower and brewing a large pot of coffee, curling up on his couch and watching reruns of _Cheers_ and trying to feel somewhat human again.

And then the phone rang.  

Harry really doesn’t remember much of the conversation, only Jay’s tearfully joyous voice apologizing for the early hour and asking him to meet the rest of the family at the hospital because Liam had _finally_ woken up. He’d mustered up what must have been passable excitement, even though he had felt like all the wind had been taken out of his sails.

Everything is about to come crashing down around him and he’s not at all ready for it. He’d always known this moment was coming, of course, but now that it’s here, Harry just wants to run screaming in the other direction.

For a few moments, Harry had thought about trying to wriggle his way out of going to the hospital. Jay already knew he wasn’t working because Harry had committed to coming over and watching the Tournament of Roses Parade and Rose Bowl with the family, so he’d have to fake sick or something. But he’d snapped out of it. Ultimately, Harry knows the Paynes at _least_ deserve to hear the truth from him in person, especially after everything they’ve done for him this past week, which is why he told Jay he would get there as soon as he could.

Harry takes a deep breath, going over his rehearsed speech in his head as the elevator slowly makes its way up. Finally the elevator shudders to a stop, the doors rumbling open.

Niall is waiting for him by the elevators, an anxious look on his face.

“Harry, you actually came, holy shit,” Niall stage whispers, grabbing Harry’s arm as soon as he steps out.

“Of course I came,” Harry says, a little offended. “I’m not just gonna go ghost on the Paynes, Niall. Did you actually think I would–”

“No, no, of course not,” Niall dismisses with a wave. “Sorry, H, I’m just a bit on edge.”

“No shit,” Harry hisses. “How do you think I feel?”

Niall shakes his head, raking his fingers through his dark hair.

“So it’s true, then?” Harry asks. “Liam’s awake?”

“He’s not right now,” Niall explains. “The doctor said he’s been in and out all morning. We haven’t even seen him yet, but–”

“Harry!” Geoff calls from down the hall, walking over to them. “Oh, thank God you’re here!”

“Hi, Geoff,” Harry says, inhaling deeply and trying to keep the panic out of his voice. “Listen, before we–”

“Come on,” Geoff says, sliding an arm around Harry’s back and guiding him forward. “Dr. Higgins said he should be waking up again any minute. Boy, is he going to be glad to see you!”

Harry tosses a panicked look at Niall over his shoulder as Geoff leads him over to where everyone is crowded outside of Liam’s room.

“Oh, Harry, sweetheart,” Jay says tearfully, hugging him tight. “Can you believe it? You must be so relieved!”

“I think I’m in shock,” Harry admits honestly.

“I can imagine,” Jay agrees, tucking one of his curls behind his ear. “Can you believe he woke up just after midnight last night?”

“Right after the ball dropped,” Olive adds excitedly. “It’s like he didn’t want the year to start without him.”

Over Jay’s shoulder, Harry catches Louis’ eyes. He looks the way Harry feels, his face ashen and purplish circles under his eyes, indicating a lack of sleep. Louis grimaces, undoubtedly remembering everything that transpired between them right around the time Liam chose to wake up, as if he was summoned out of his coma by some sort of cosmic interference. Harry looks away quickly, the pain of their argument and Louis’ cutting remarks still a little too raw.

“Typical Liam, eh?” Harry jokes lamely. “He never wants to be left out of the party, right?”

“Okay folks, he’s starting to wake up,” Dr. Higgins says, popping his head out of the room. “You’re all going to want to get in here. It will be good for him to see familiar faces right away.”

Before he can say a single word in protest, Harry’s herded into Liam’s room as the family gathers around the foot of his bed. He tries to stay to the back of the group, out of sight as much as possible, squeezing in behind Niall and Fizzy, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Liam won’t even see him.

There _are_ a lot of them, after all. Really, will Liam even notice a bonus family member?

“Like I said when you got here, Liam’s been in and out all morning,” Dr. Higgins addresses them. “He may not stay awake for very long just yet; don’t be alarmed, that’s completely normal–”

Liam groans softly, his eyelids fluttering. Immediately, Jay grabs a chair, scooting it close to Liam’s bedside and taking his hand as she sits. She looks up questioningly at Dr. Higgins, who nods back at her, a gentle smile on his face.

“You can talk to him,” Higgins encourages.

“Liam, sweetheart,” Jay says, her voice thick with emotion as she strokes his hand. “Liam, it’s Jay.”

Despite his apprehension, Harry can’t help the way his heart soars when Liam’s eyes slowly blink open. The excitement and joy in the room is palpable, the siblings tittering excitedly; Jay hiccups a tearful laugh as she reaches up and brushes her fingers through the hair falling across Liam’s forehead.

“Hi, darling,” Jay says, squeezing his hand and then looking over Geoff, beaming.

Liam blinks several times, as if he’s trying to focus. He finally twists his head to the side, meeting Jay’s eyes and offering her a lopsided smile.

“H-hi,” he croaks, his voice scratchy from disuse.

“Dad’s here, too,” Jay smiles, nodding at Geoff over her shoulder. “So is everyone else, Liam. Oh, we’re so happy to see you!”

Liam hums, exhaling heavily, his eyes already drooping sleepily. Still, he struggles to stay awake, his eyes slowly moving around the room. Geoff pats his leg, giving him a thumbs up, a giant smile on his face. Harry watches nervously, plastering a smile on his face as Liam’s gaze drifts across the rest of the family huddle at the end of the bed. His heart stops as Liam’s warm brown eyes lock with his own; Harry starts to sigh with relief as Liam seems to move on to Niall, but then Liam’s eyes flick back, his brow crinkling in confusion.

“W-who...who are you?”

Harry feels the blood drain out of his face as everyone gasps and turns to him, their faces a mixture of shock, confusion, and even horror.

Well. Here goes nothing.

“I’m–” Harry starts, completely ready to confess.

“Dear God,” Geoff gasps. “He–”

“He has amnesia!” Niall exclaims. “Holy shit, he forgot Harry!”

Harry closes his eyes and rubs his temples as the room descends into chaos.

********

Several hours later, the entire family sits in the fifth floor waiting room patiently awaiting the results of Liam’s latest CAT scans. The table in the middle of their little cluster of lumpy couches and hard, uncomfortable plastic chairs is littered with empty chip bags, candy bar wrappers, and soda cans from the vending machine run Daisy and Phoebe had done, as well as crumpled-up balls of cellophane from the sandwiches Jay had fetched from the cafeteria. Fizzy had taken Ernie and Doris home after their makeshift lunch; Olive had gone with her, not feeling all that well and needing to lie down. Harry can feel everyone’s eyes on him, the whole scenario eerily similar to a week ago when he first met the Paynes. Harry feels horrible; his stomach is in knots, the burden of his secret overwhelming.

“Hey guys, listen,” Harry says finally, taking a deep breath as seven pairs of eyes land on him. “I need to tell you something really important, okay? Liam and I...well...you see...we were never–”

“Adopting?” Jay finishes, her fingers tangling with Geoff’s. “We know. Louis told us this morning.”

Harry eyes dart over to Louis; Louis looks back at him, his mouth twisted in a half smile, half grimace.

“We’re sorry, Harry,” Daisy apologizes, curling up next to her sister. “We shouldn’t have said anything.”

“We just got so excited,” Phoebe adds. “You two will be such cute dads!”

“I mean, I shouldn’t have joked about it,” Harry says awkwardly. “I mean. I do want kids. Tons of ’em...just not right away.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Louis’ face scronch up.

“Um, anyway,” Harry gulps, “there’s also something–”

“Okay, folks, I have some news,” Dr. Higgins interrupts, striding into the waiting room.

Goddammit.

Everyone turns their attention to Dr. Higgins, who grabs a chair and slides it over, inserting himself in their little circle.

“We got Liam’s scans back,” Dr. Higgins starts. “His brain is still a little bruised, which could be causing the amnesia. It’s not completely out of the ordinary with a head trauma like Liam’s, although his memory loss appears to be localized and patchy, limited to isolated events–”

“So it’s like...selective amnesia?” Geoff asks.

“Yes, it appears to be,” Dr. Higgins says.

“Oh my God,” Jay murmurs, tossing Harry a sympathetic glance.

Harry is going to hell.

Maybe he’s already there.

“The good news is,” Dr. Higgins continues, “this is a condition that usually clears up on its own as the brain continues to heal itself. We are going to continue monitoring him here, as I don’t feel comfortable moving him out of the ICU just yet. We’ll see how the next 18 hours go before making any decision on that. But things are looking up.”

The family lets out a collective sigh of relief.

“Liam’s also awake right now, if you want to go in and visit,” Dr. Higgins smiles. “He’s a great deal more alert than he was this morning, even though he’s still a bit disoriented. Just be patient with him, okay? Don’t push him too hard.”

Everyone nods, gathering their things to head back into Liam’s room. Harry catches Jay eyeing the mess from their picnic lunch critically.

“I’ll clean this up,” Harry says helpfully, balling up an empty chip bag in his fist. “You guys go on ahead, I’ll be right behind you.”

“I’ll hel–” Louis starts, reaching for a Snickers wrapper.

“Niall, why don’t you help me?” Harry asks quickly, looking at him pointedly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry sees hurt flash across Louis’ face as he drops the wrapper back on the table. He takes a step back and stuffs his hands in his pockets.

Christ.

“Yeah, okay,” Niall replies easily, his brow crinkling ever so slightly as he looks between Harry and Louis. “Go on, Tommo, we’ll be right behind you.”

Louis nods, his lips pressed in a tight smile and his jaw clenching as he follows Jay to Liam’s room.

“Amnesia?” Harry hisses once everyone else is out of earshot. “Are you serious, Niall?”

“I know, I know,” Niall groans quietly, gathering up the empty soda cans. “I panicked!”

“We have to tell them!” Harry insists, sweeping all the wrappers to the edge of the table and crunching them up in his hand. “We can’t have them doing more unnecessary testing on him, Niall! Hasn’t Liam been through enough already?”

“Hey, thanks to those scans they just did, the doctors found out his brain was still bruised!” Niall protests. “What if they had just discharged him with a broken brain, Harry?”

“Wow, Niall,” Harry says witheringly. “Careful. You might throw your back out with that reach.”

Niall grimaces, tossing all the empty cans in the recycling bin.

“We have to tell them,” Harry repeats as he dumps everything in the garbage. “It’s gone too far.”

“Let me handle it,” Niall says grimly. “I’ve known just as long and I’m too old of a friend for them to kill.”

“Not funny, Niall,” Harry groans, raking his fingers through his hair. “I just...fuck, I don’t want to keep hurting them. Not anymore, not now. ”

“I’ll take care of it, all right? It’s going to be okay.”

“Okay,” Harry nods, taking a deep breath.

“And I’ll take care of it right now,” Niall says, guiding Harry towards Liam’s room, his hand on the small of Harry’s back.

“Okay,” Harry says again, his stomach doing somersaults as they approach the door. “Let’s do this.”

“I’m right behind you,” Niall says, the comforting weight of his hand disappearing.

“...We’re just so relieved,” Geoff says, catching Harry’s eye as he enters the room and giving him the thumbs up. “How are you feeling, champ?”

Harry smiles at him and straightens his shoulders, turning to Niall.

Except Niall isn’t there.

Harry peeks out through the windows of the hospital room and sees the door to the restroom swinging closed.

Harry’s going to murder him.

“I...I don’t know?” Liam answers slowly, his brow wrinkling as he looks over at Harry. Harry plasters on a smile, shifting back and forth on his feet.

“Do you remember him?” Geoff prods gently.

“Should I?” Liam asks, his eyes wide as he looks back and forth between Harry and his father.

“Look closer, honey,” Jay urges.

Liam studies him. Harry tries not to squirm, thinking of all the times that he longed for Liam Payne, his handsome commuter, to look at him so intensely.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

“He...he looks a little familiar,” Liam states finally.

“I think it’s coming back,” Geoff sighs in relief, gripping Jay’s hand tightly as he beams at Harry.

“I think so,” Jay agrees, her lovely face breaking out in a smile.

“What’s coming back?” Liam asks, slightly panicked as he looks around the room. “What’s going on? What did I miss? Tell me!”

“You have amnesia,” Geoff states.

“I do?”

“Liam,” Jay says carefully, sitting down next to him and taking his hand. “Honey, you’re engaged.”

“I am?” Liam asks, his eyes wide. “To who?”

“To Harry,” Phoebe and Daisy say simultaneously. “Don’t you remember?”

“Harry? Who’s Harry?”

Louis sighs heavily, crossing his arms across his chest as he leans back against the wall.

“He’s right there, Liam,” Lottie says, pointing over to Harry, a grim expression on her face.

“H-hi,” Harry stammers, his cheeks heating up. “I’m Harry.”

“We’re _engaged?”_ Liam asks him. “Really? How can I not remember you?”

“Well, you see–” Harry starts.

“Mr. Payne, I have some Jell-o for you,” a nurse interrupts, elbowing around Harry as she comes to Liam’s bedside, pulling over his tray table.

“Do I like Jell-o?” Liam asks, looking around the room, completely bewildered.

If Harry weren’t ready to start screaming from being constantly interrupted, he’d be completely endeared by the innocent question.

“Of course you do,” Jay tuts, unwrapping his spoon and dipping it into his bowl of red Jell-o, passing it over to him. “Everyone likes Jell-o. Now, eat up.”

“A-b-c-d-e-f-g,” Liam sings under his breath as he spoons a cube out of the bowl. He takes a bite and his eyes crinkle up as he smiles happily.

“I _do_ like Jell-o!” Liam remarks, more to himself than anyone else, as he digs into his bowl with vigor.

“That’s great, Liam,” Lottie comments drily. “What a breakthrough. God forbid you forget Jell-o too.”

“Charlotte,” Jay scolds. “Not the time.”

“Okay, okay,” Dr. Higgins announces, clapping his hands together as he enters the room. “I think Liam has had enough excitement for one day. We don’t want to push him too hard too soon.”

“You heard the man, troops,” Jay says. “Everyone say goodbye to your brother and let’s get home.”

“I’ll call your mother when we get home,” Geoff says gruffly, patting Liam’s knee. “Long distance rates be damned. She and the girls have been worried sick, it’s been driving them crazy they couldn’t find a flight this time of year.”

As Phoebe and Daisy both go in for hugs, Harry catches Jay’s eyes.

“I’m just going to go check on Niall in the bathroom,” Harry says gesturing to the door. “I don’t think that sandwich agreed with him.”

“Okay, hon,” Jay says, handing Lottie her coat. “We’ll wait for you by the elevators.”

Harry nods, turning to head to the door and then pausing, turning back to Liam.

“Um, Liam?”

Liam looks up as Daisy releases him from a hug.

“I’m sorry for all the confusion,” Harry says genuinely, his palms sweating. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thanks,” Liam replies, his brow wrinkling, making him look like a confused puppy. “See you tomorrow?”

“Y-yeah,” Harry stammers, his heart pounding in his chest. “Bye.”

Harry blows out a big breath and scampers down the hall, pushing the door to the bathroom open forcefully. Niall leans against the counter of sinks, his eyes focused intently on his phone.

“Niall!” Harry exclaims. “What the fuck?”

“Can’t a man go to the bathroom?” Niall asks defensively.

“Oh my God,” Harry sputters, walking over and looking at the tiny screen of Niall’s phone. “You’re playing fucking Minesweeper!”

“It was a very hard level!” Niall protests, flipping his phone shut and pocketing it.

“Niall!” Harry whines, barely stopping himself from stomping his foot in frustration.

“I’m handling it,” Niall reassures him. “I’m going to tell them.”

“When?” Harry presses. “When are you going to tell them? On my golden anniversary?”

“I’ll tell them tomorrow,” Niall promises. “Give me the day to work out a plan, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry agrees with a heavy sigh. “Just...we...you gotta tell them, Niall!”

“I’ll tell them!” Niall insists, heading for the door. “Trust me, Harry.”

“I’m trying to,” Harry says, following him. “You’re not making it very easy.”

“I’m doing my best! You have to let me think,” Niall hisses as they walk towards the elevator bank, where the rest of the family waits for them.

“Everything okay, you two?” Jay asks as the elevator doors open.

“Yes, we’re fine,” Niall says brightly. “What a way to kick off the year, huh?”

“It is indeed,” Geoff nods.

“Do you still want to come over, Harry?” Jay asks. “I’m sure we’ve missed the parade, but the game will still be on later.”

“I think I’m just gonna go home,” Harry declines as the elevator dings for the ground floor. “I didn’t sleep very well last night and then today...today has been a lot.”

“Understandable,” Jay nods as they file out of the elevator. “We’ll miss you though.”

“I’ll miss you guys, too,” Harry replies honestly, his throat suddenly tight.

He’s going to miss them all so much.

“We’ll see you tomorrow though, right?” Jay asks.

“Yes,” Harry nods. “I have all of Liam’s things from the day of the accident. I don’t know, maybe seeing them will trigger his memories of the day or something? I can bring them in the morning.”

“That’s wonderful, Harry, thank you,” Jay says, hugging him tightly.

They say their goodbyes, Harry shaking Geoff’s hand and hugging all the girls; he gives Niall a pointed look as he claps him on the back, and then turns to Louis, who stands there with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Um,” Harry says awkwardly, not knowing whether he should hug him or not. He opts for not, scuffing his boot on the sidewalk instead. “See ya, Louis.”

“Bye,” Louis rasps quietly.

Harry turns to head down the sidewalk, sighing heavily.

“Can I walk you home?” Louis blurts out suddenly.

“Um,” Harry starts, turning back around, his stomach fluttering nervously.

“Please?” Louis implores.

“Yeah,” Harry smiles softly. “Okay.”

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Louis says to his family hurriedly, trotting over to Harry. “Just gonna make sure Harry gets home okay.”

“What a hero,” Lottie smirks, threading her arm through Daisy’s and starting down the sidewalk in the other direction.

Louis rolls his eyes, his cheeks pinkening.

“Kickoff’s at five, Louis,” Geoff says. “Will we–”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there,” Louis hastily replies, turning to Harry and raising his eyebrows. “Shall we?”

Harry nods, waving one more time at the rest of the Paynes as he and Louis set off down Tenth Avenue. They walk in silence for a few blocks, the weight of the day settling around them. It’s less awkward than Harry feels like it should be, given everything that’s happened between them in the past twenty-four hours; instead, Louis’ presence, even in silence, feels comforting, like the home he’s always been looking for but never really expected to find. As they walk, Harry finds himself sneaking glances at Louis, admiring the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones. The bright January sun highlights the sprinkles of gray at his temples and gives the light stubble on his cheeks a reddish tint.

He’s heartbreakingly beautiful.

Harry’s not really as sneaky as he thinks he’s being; Louis catches him looking, smiling at him softly. Even as Harry rips his gaze away, his cheeks heating up as he focuses on the sidewalk ahead of them, he finds that he really doesn’t care if Louis knows he was looking. This is all going to be over soon anyway, he wants to drink his fill of Louis Tomlinson while he still can.

“Harry, I–”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, looking over at him hopefully.

“I just,” Louis struggles, taking a deep breath as he scrubs a hand down his cheek. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am for what I said last night.”

“Oh,” Harry breathes.

“It’s been weighing on me ever since,” Louis continues regretfully. “I didn’t sleep well last night either. I just felt so horrible about it, y’know? I still do.”

“But you did apologize,” Harry says gently.

“Not properly,” Louis sighs, sweeping his hair aside. “And I’d really like to, if that’s okay?”

Harry nods.

“I crossed a line,” Louis apologizes. “I took something personal you told me and I used it against you. I shouldn’t have, and I’m so sorry. Because you’re right. I _don’t_ know what it’s like to be alone and how you...how you manage your own grief is nobody’s business but your own. I don’t think you’ve ever done anything but your best, and I...I had no right to bring up your mother, Harry, I’m sorry.”

Harry feels some of the heaviness that’s been pressing down on him start to lift.

“Thank you,” Harry says softly. “Apology accepted.”

Louis smiles, the tension easing from his face.

“You’re not the only one who said things they shouldn’t have, Lou,” Harry reminds him. “I started it, really. I shouldn’t have brought up Geoff and the business. I know it’s complicated and I don’t know all the history involved. So, I’m sorry too. Forgive me?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, his eyes squinting shut as he smiles over at him.

They keep walking, their arms occasionally brushing.

“I am gonna talk to him, y’know,” Louis says after a moment. “Now that Liam’s awake. My commissions are steady. More than steady, really. They’re increasing. So it’s time, I think, scary as it is. I gotta take a chance on this. On myself. I think I could really make something of it. So like...thanks for the push, Haz.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry says, biting down on his bottom lip as he grins. “I know I’ve said this before, but you’re really talented and you deserve all the success in the world, Lou. I know it’s gonna be hard, but I really think this is gonna be the right move.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely,” Harry nods. “Put me on the list for your commissions, ’cause I need one of those rocking chairs. I probably won’t be able to afford you, but maybe we can work out a payment plan or something.”

“Nah,” Louis grins. “For you? It’s on the house.”

“Now, that’s just a bad business plan, Lou,” Harry teases.

They laugh as they come to a stop outside of Harry’s courtyard.

“Well,” Louis sighs, looking up at the building. “Door to door service.”

“The Tommo Way,” Harry smiles.

“That’s right,” Louis nods, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turns to go. “See ya, Curly.”

As Louis starts to walk away, Harry realizes this is probably the last time he’ll see him before the truth comes out and Louis will never look at him the same way again. He’s suddenly desperate for Louis to know just what this week has meant to him.

“Hey, Lou?” Harry calls after him.

“Yeah?” Louis asks breathlessly, stopping in his tracks and turning back to him.

“I,” Harry swallows hard, getting momentarily lost in Louis’ blue eyes, “I just wanted to say that you’ve been...really great this week.”

Jesus, he’s lame.

“Oh sure,” Louis scoffs self-deprecatingly, stepping closer to him. “I’ve been really great. Like when I accused you of lying to everyone. Or how about when I thought you were in a secret relationship with Nick Grimshaw? Oh, I know! It was when I announced that you were adopting a baby in front of all of your friends. _That_ was truly my shining moment.”

“You’ve had a busy week, haven’t you?” Harry smiles, a surge of affection rushing through his veins.

“Yeah,” Louis huffs, sweeping a hand through his hair. “I’ve been in rare form all week. I promise I’m not always this way. Ordinarily, I’m a completely rational person, Harry, I swear.”

Harry chuckles.

“Anyway,” Harry continues. “I just...listen...starting tomorrow, um, things are probably gonna be a bit different.”

“Yeah,” Louis says softly, his eyes roving over Harry’s face.

“And I just wanted you to know that you’ve...you’ve become...a really good friend.”

Louis flinches ever so slightly, his shoulders tensing.

“Okay,” he mutters, looking down at the sidewalk. “Good friend.”

“Yeah,” Harry says carefully, pulling at his bottom lip as he studies Louis’ face. “I just needed you to know that.”

“You’ve become a good friend too, Harry,” Louis replies, looking back up at him, the clouds in his blue eyes making them almost gray. “And I need you to know something else.”

“What’s that?”

“I didn’t mean it,” Louis confesses. “What I said about you and Liam not being good together. He’s lucky to have you and I think you’re going to make an amazing couple. I’m...I’m happy you aren’t going to be alone anymore, Harry. I hope you’re never alone again.”

Harry smiles, even as his heart clenches painfully.

“Thanks,” Harry murmurs.

Louis smiles tightly, his eyes still slightly stormy as he nods at him.

“Be seein’ ya,” he rasps, starting up 47th Street, clearly heading towards the subway.

“Thanks for the walk,” Harry manages to choke out, the vise-grip on his heart squeezing tighter and tighter as he watches Louis go.

“Anytime,” Louis replies with a sad smile.

Harry feels like he’s lost him already, even though Louis has taken barely more than a few steps away. He can’t bear to watch him walk any farther away, so he turns on his heel, fishing out his keys and heading towards his building, where a pint of chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream, his television, and a cuddly orange cat await him. He sighs as the familiar sense of loneliness starts to creep in, forming a rock in the pit of his stomach.

He’s alone. Again. He might as well start getting used to it.


	9. Chapter 9

Louis balances the two boxes of fresh doughnuts in one hand as he fiddles with the tricky lock on his parents’ front door. One of the problems with having a large family is that you can never just get one thing for one person; so while he had originally intended to only get Geoff a couple of his favorite doughnuts for the purpose of buttering him up, he found himself purchasing two dozen instead, just to be sure that there was enough variety for everyone. When the lock finally clicks, Louis twists the knob and shoves the door open with his shoulder, placing his keys on top of the boxes.

The house is quiet, save for sounds of someone puttering around in the kitchen. Louis kicks the door closed, the thud reverberating in the empty foyer and makes his way back to the kitchen. Jay stands at the counter in her robe and slippers, making herself a cup of coffee while Geoff sits at the head of the table, reading the paper as he eats a bowl of corn flakes.

“Morning,” Louis says, kissing Jay on the cheek before placing the boxes of doughnuts on the table. “I brought breakfast.”

“Are those from Yaya’s?” Geoff asks eagerly, his eyes lighting up.

“Fresh out of the fryer,” Louis grins, reaching up and grabbing his Yankees mug from the cabinet above the coffeemaker. “Just like you like them.”

“Doughnuts, Louis, really?” Jay clucks disapprovingly. “After all the junk we’ve had this week?”

“Don’t listen to her, son,” Geoff says, shoving his bowl of cereal aside and opening the box, plucking out a glazed doughnut. “You know how she likes to go on her health kicks in January–”

“I’m just saying, we’re not as young as we used to be, Geoff,” Jay insists. “We should watch what we eat–”

“Please,” Geoff says, rolling his eyes. “You’re even more beautiful now than you were the day I met you, Johannah. Like a fine wine.”

Louis makes a gagging noise as Jay smiles. His parents are truly disgusting; they always have been and they always will be.

He hopes he’ll be just like them one day.

“But your cholesterol–” Jay protests weakly.

“Is fine,” Geoff finishes, taking a bite of his doughnut, sighing happily. “God, that’s good.”

“Aw, c’mon, Mom,” Louis wheedles, pouring his coffee. “I think we all deserve a treat after the week we’ve had. Besides, the kids are still on winter break this week and Lottie and Fizzy are here, so _technically_ it’s still the holidays. Plenty of time for dieting after we all get back to our normal routines.”

“You know,” Jay teases, poking Louis’ cheek, “sometimes I think you’re the one who should have been the lawyer.”

“Yeesh, no thank you,” Louis says, scrunching his nose in disgust as he pulls out the chair to Geoff’s right.

“I’m going to go shower before the madness begins,” Jay announces, pressing a kiss to Geoff’s cheek and grabbing her coffee mug. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Geoff replies, patting her hand.

Jay plucks a powdered sugar doughnut out of the box before she goes.

“I saw that, Mom!” Louis calls after her.

“Well, you did get my favorites, Boo!” Jay answers, going up the stairs.

Geoff smiles as he watches her go, adjusting his reading glasses as he turns back to his paper. Louis screws up his courage, butterflies dancing in his stomach.

“Catching up?” he asks lightly.

“Yeah,” Geoff replies, looking at him over the edge of the paper. “It’s been almost a week since I read the obituaries. We missed a lot of good stuff the day after Christmas, you know.”

“It’s been a hell of a week, hasn’t it?” Louis observes, sipping his coffee.

“It has,” Geoff agrees. “Life is just...crazy isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Louis nods, cupping his coffee mug, the smooth ceramic warming his hands.

“I mean...you work hard, you do your best to provide for your family, you roll with the punches you could never have seen coming, like a coma for Christ’s sake. And then, for one minute...everything is good. Everyone is well and everyone is happy. And in that moment...you have peace.”

“Dad,” Louis says, taking a deep breath. “This...isn’t that moment.”

Geoff’s brow furrows as he sets his paper aside, giving Louis his full attention.

“What’s going on, Louis?”

“Okay,” Louis exhales, cracking his knuckles and straightening his shoulders. “Do you remember that rocking chair I made for Nana for her birthday last year?”

“Remember it?” Geoff huffs. “Are you kidding me? It’s so fancy she won’t let anyone sit in it. Including herself. She just polishes the damn thing like it’s a museum exhibit or something.”

“Yeah,” Louis chuckles fondly. “She really should sit in it.”

“Chairs should be sat in,” Geoff nods, his eyes serious.

“I know, right?”

“Right.”

“Anyway, Dad,” Louis continues, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. “That fancy chair? Over the summer, I sold five more just like it.”

Geoff’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Nana’s entire bridge club,” Louis explains. “They all wanted one. So that, like...got me thinking, you know? So I put a few ads out, just to see if I’d get any nibbles.”

“And?”

“I sold four more rocking chairs,” Louis says, his knee jiggling nervously. “Then I got a commission for a full dining room set. I’ve got orders for six more.”

Geoff whistles lowly.

“That sounds like a nice side business you’ve got going there, kid.”

“No, Dad,” Louis says with determination, keeping his eyes trained on Geoff’s. “This is not a side business. This...this is a good _business.”_

Louis looks at him for a long time, leveling his father with a confident gaze, refusing to back down, even though his insides are a jumbled mess of nerves. He sees the moment when it clicks in Geoff’s brain; Geoff removes his glasses, placing them on the table as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You want out of the business,” Geoff states.

“Yeah,” Louis gulps, his voice small. He looks down at his hands, picking at a small blister that emerged from a particularly vigorous bout of sanding the night before. “I want out of the business.”

“How long have you felt this way?”

“A long time,” Louis admits, carding his hand through his hair and avoiding Geoff’s eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment he knows must be there.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Geoff asks, his voice gentle.

“Aw, come on, Dad,” Louis scoffs, finally meeting Geoff’s eyes, surprised to see nothing but compassion and pride shining out from them. “You know why.”

Regret washes over Geoff’s face.

“Louis–”

“I mean, I saw what happened to your relationship with Liam when he went to law school,” Louis continues, his voice thick as feelings that he’s repressed for months come bubbling to the surface. “We all did. I didn’t want that to happen to me, y’know? You’ve always been so good to me, from the very beginning and I just...I didn’t want to let you down. And I don’t want you to think that I’ve been miserable in this job, ’cause I haven’t. I’ve loved working with you, Dad, I just...I love making furniture. I’m good at it. And I just really want to take this shot and I hope you understand that it has nothing to do with you or how I feel about you–”

“Son,” Geoff says firmly. “I’m going to need you to listen to me, okay?”

Louis stops, looking over at Geoff, whose eyes are watery.

“Absolutely nothing is going to change the way I feel about you,” Geoff states. “Or how proud I am of you.”

Louis’ shoulders slump in relief. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d been holding on to this, and it feels like a massive burden has been lifted.

“If I’ve learned anything at all this week,” Geoff says solemnly, “it’s that I’ve held on to this grudge against your brother for far too long. I’ve been wrong, Louis. I let my wounded pride get in the way of having a relationship with him and God, if we’d lost him…”

Geoff trails off, wiping a stray tear away.

“Anyway,” he sighs. “I don’t want to lose another one of my sons over the family business. It’s not worth it.”

“You haven’t lost Liam, Dad,” Louis says softly. “You just have to...find your way back to each other. I believe that you will.”

“We’ve lost so much time,” Geoff mourns. “I hope you’re right.”

They are quiet for a few moments; Geoff polishes off his doughnut while Louis sips his coffee.

“Is this going to make you happy, Louis?” Geoff asks, brushing his hands together and leveling him with an even gaze.

“Yes,” Louis admits. “I think it could be something really great, Dad. Just the thought of it...it’s scary, but it’s also so exciting.”

“Then you have my full support,” Geoff says decisively.

“Thank you,” Louis says gratefully. “That means so much–”

“Now, I want to be fair to you, son,” Geoff barrels on. “You are a partner in the business, after all, fifty-fifty split. I’m going to call up our lawyer and have him draw up an agreement so I can buy you out.”

“Dad, you don’t have to–” Louis protests.

“No arguments,” Geoff stops him, holding up his hand. “Every fledgling business needs seed money, Louis. Consider me your first investor. You’ve earned this, son. Take it. Please.”

Louis thinks he may just burst into tears.

Harry was right. He can’t wait to tell him.

Louis barks out a wet laugh, his laughter growing until he’s full-out belly laughing loud enough that he’s bound to wake up his siblings.

“Something funny?” Geoff asks, his eyes twinkling.

“I just...I can’t believe you’re not mad,” Louis wheezes, wiping a happy tear away. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve been torturing myself? Holy shit, Dad.”

“Are you nuts?” Geoff asks with a bemused smile. “I mean, of course, I know you’re nuts, you want to make furniture for a living, but _Louis._ I’ve never wanted anything more than for you to be happy. I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t be honest with me.”

“And I’m sorry for not trusting you,” Louis says. “Thank you, Dad. Thank you for believing in me.”

“I always have,” Geoff smiles.

Louis beams, taking Geoff’s newspaper and skimming the page, as per their typical morning ritual.

“Oh hey,” Louis observes, taking a sip of coffee. “Mrs. Fletcher passed away, huh? The McMullen boys have been circling that estate for ages, sucking up to her daughter.”

“That’s their problem,” Geoff grumbles, tapping the paper with his index finger. “Swooping in like damn vultures. They’re too pushy.”

“Very pushy,” Louis agrees. “It turns most people off.”

“We should call her daughter next week,” Geoff muses. “Mrs. Fletcher’s dining room _alone_ has got to be worth forty grand. If we land that estate, maybe I’ll take your mother on one of those cruises with Kathie Lee Gifford.”

“If _you_ land the estate,” Louis corrects.

“Right,” Geoff nods resolutely, winking at Louis. “When I land the estate. Now slide that box over here, I want another doughnut.”

********

“...August 29th, 1961, that’s my birthday,” Liam recites. “38-17-4, my eighth grade locker combination. Columbia University, class of ’82, I graduated summa cum laude–”

Niall sighs from his perch on the empty bed next to Liam, who’s been rattling off random facts about himself for the past ten minutes. He’s been trying to work out a plan to tell the family about Harry all morning, but Liam’s incessant babbling, as happy as Niall is to hear his voice, is not helping his concentration.

“Come on,” Fizzy groans. “You remember your locker combination, but you can’t remember Harry?”

“I went to Harvard Law, got a 179 on my LSATs–”

“You love him, Liam,” Jay huffs, straightening his blankets. “You just...don’t remember him.”

“I was the senior class president, prom king–”

“Hey guys, can I talk to Liam alone?” Niall says suddenly.

“Is everything okay?” Jay asks, turning to him, her eyes concerned.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” Niall waves. “I just need some quality best friend time, if you know what I mean. No girls allowed.”

“Jesus, it’s like you’re back in junior high,” Fizzy quips, rolling her eyes. “No girls allowed? Seriously?”

Niall sticks his tongue out at her, proving her point.

“We could go get a cup of coffee?” Jay questions, turning to Fizzy. “I know I could use one.”

“Sure,” Fizzy answers, getting out of her chair.

“We’ll be back in a little while, sweetheart,” Jay assures Liam, squeezing his hand. “Do you want me to bring you anything back from the cafeteria?”

“Jell-o?” Liam asks, his eyes lighting up. “The red kind?”

“You got it,” Jay smiles as she kisses his forehead. “We’ll be back. Have fun, boys.”

Jay loops her arm around Fizzy’s waist as she guides her towards the door; Fizzy looks over her shoulder at Niall, making a face at him as they go.

Some things never change.

“Well, then,” Niall grins, hopping off the bed and brushing his hands together.

“What’s up, Niall?” Liam asks curiously. “What couldn’t you say in front of Jay and Fiz?”

“Liam, how long have we known each other?”

“Um, well, we met when we were eight and I’m thirty-four now, so…”

Liam’s brow crinkles as he does the math in his head.

“Shit, have we been best friends for almost twenty-seven years?” Liam asks, his eyes widening. “Fuck, we’re getting old.”

“You’re telling me,” Niall replies. “At least Louis is the only one going gray.”

“He’s been going gray since his late 20s, that’s why he used to cut his hair so short,” Liam says conspiratorially. “He thought that it would hide it.”

“Joke was on him,” Niall snickers. “Anyway, Liam, I’ve known you practically my entire life. You and Louis have been the brothers I’ve always wanted. I’ve been there for practically every major life event, from the births of your siblings to the day you realized you liked boys just as much as you liked girls to the day you passed the bar exam.”

“You have,” Liam smiles.

“You’ve got it all bro. You have a good education, a job you really love, a fantastic apartment, and you’re clearly popular with all those snooty friends of yours. And to top it off, you’re one handsome son of a bitch.”

“Um...thanks?”

“But the fact of the matter is, you’re a douchebag, Liam,” Niall states plainly.

“Ex _cuse_ me?” Liam squawks.  

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Niall says, sitting down in the chair Jay vacated. “I love you. You’re my best friend and you always will be. And there are certain things that only a best friend can say, right? So I’m saying it. Liam, you’re a douchebag.”

“Is there a point to this love fest we’re having right now?” Liam scowls.

“Yes,” Niall nods, the seed of an idea taking root. “Harry.”

“What _about_ Harry?” Liam asks in frustration. “Niall, I don’t remember him. I’m sorry, I don’t!”

“Liam, there’s something you need to know about Harry,” Niall says seriously.

“What?” Liam asks.

Niall hesitates, wavering between telling Liam the truth and moving forward with his plan.

“Nialler, c’mon,” Liam urges. “What the hell is it? Is he, like...I don’t know...secret royalty or something? What’s so special about Harry?”

Screw it, Niall thinks, taking a deep breath.

Harry is supposed to be a member of this family.

“He’s not just your fiancé!” Niall exclaims. “He’s your guardian angel!”

“What do you mean?” Liam asks, his brow crinkling.

“I mean, he saved your life, Liam! He jumped down on the tracks and pulled you out of the way of an oncoming train!”

“He did?” Liam asks with awe. “Really?”

“He _did,”_ Niall nods solemnly. “Look, he’s supposed to be coming to see you soon and I want you to do yourself a favor. While Harry’s here, I want you to look deep in those big green eyes of his, and I want you to listen with the heart of a man who’s been given a second chance at life, Liam.”

“Okay,” Liam nods.

“And after two minutes, if you aren’t madly in love with him, then tell him you want to break up and you can go back to being a douchebag,” Niall shrugs. “But if in those two minutes, you see what it took the rest of us only seconds to see, do you know what you should do?”

“What?” Liam wonders.

“You should propose to him for the second time,” Niall says, looking Liam dead in the eye, “and you should marry him before someone else has the chance to sweep him off his feet right under your nose. Because someone will, Liam. And then you’re gonna have to spend the rest of your life knowing that someone else is married to your husband.”

Liam’s nose wrinkles.

“Did you just quote _When Harry Met Sally_ to me?”

“So what if I did?” Niall challenges. “The principle applies. Harry is special, Liam, and I don’t want you to miss out on him just because of a little bump on your head. Hell, I’m not even into men and I’m about ready to fight you for him.”

Liam frowns.

“That’s a joke,” Niall says gently.

“Oh,” Liam says with a forced laugh. “Right. A joke. I knew that.”

“Just take a little time and think about what I said, will ya?” Niall says. “I’m just looking out for you. Like best friends do.”

“I will,” Liam nods. “I promise.”

********

Harry takes a deep breath as the elevator doors rumble open, holding the box of Liam’s possessions in front of him like a shield. He has no idea what to expect today, not knowing whether Niall has told the Paynes yet, and if he _has_ told them, he wonders if they will all be lying in wait to confront him or if he’ll just...never see them again.

Either option is terrible.

But it’s time to face the music.

He straightens his spine as he reaches room 505, telling himself to just act like everything is normal, until it’s not.

“Knock, knock,” Harry says, rapping his knuckles on the open door.

“Come in!”

Harry isn’t quite sure what he expected today, but it certainly wasn’t Liam Payne all alone in his hospital room watching Sally Jesse Raphael, looking almost as gorgeous as the first time Harry ever saw him. He’s obviously had a shower and a shave, his hair not quite as immaculately styled as he usually keeps it, but an attempt has definitely been made. His color’s come completely back, his cheeks looking almost rosy and he’s ditched the hospital gown for a pair of silky red and blue striped pajamas and a plush blue robe.

How in the hell he manages to look like _this_ after a week in a coma, Harry will never know.

“Harry,” Liam says brightly, grabbing the remote and clicking off the television. “You came!”

Okay, so Niall hasn’t told them yet. Good to know.

“Y-yeah,” Harry stammers, completely flustered. “I, um, I brought your stuff from the day of the accident? Jesus, you look good.”

Harry clamps his mouth shut, blushing furiously. Liam simply smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Thanks,” he replies. “I feel much better today.”

“W-where is everyone?” Harry asks dumbly, looking around the room as if the rest of his family may be hiding in the corners.

“Oh,” Liam shrugs. “I told them all to go get lunch. Not in the hospital, I think they’ve all had their fill of cafeteria food this past week. I think they went to a diner around the corner?”

“Oh, okay.” Harry says, placing Liam’s box on the empty bed. “Was Niall with them?”

“Of course he was,” Liam replies. “Why?”

“No reason,” Harry says airily. “Well, I should–”

“Do you want to sit?” Liam asks, gesturing to the chair by his bed.

“I really should get going,” Harry declines.

“Do you have to?” Liam presses, giving him puppy eyes. “C’mon. Keep me company for a while?”

“Okay,” Harry answers after a moment, unwinding his scarf and shrugging out of his coat, placing them on the empty bed.

Harry sits, fidgeting in his seat as he looks at Liam, who looks back at him openly, his brown eyes smiling. He feels a bit like he’s in the presence of his favorite movie star or something, having absolutely no idea what to say to Liam. For as much as he dreamed about marrying Liam Payne one day, he never in a million years _actually_ thought he’d get to talk to him.

It’s all a bit overwhelming.

“Would you like a sandwich?” Liam asks after a long moment, gesturing to his mostly uneaten lunch. “This place is great for the all-you-can-eat Jell-o, but the rest of the food here is pretty gross.”

“So you’re offering it to me?” Harry teases. “Gee, thanks, Liam, that means a lot.”

Liam laughs, clapping a hand over his mouth. Harry grins at him cheekily, pleased at Liam’s reaction.

“Can I get _you_ anything?” Harry asks once Liam’s laughter ceases. “Water? More Jell-o?”

“I wish I had more of my clothes,” Liam sighs. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, these pajamas Louis brought over are great, but I just feel a little weird being in them all day, you know?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods. “You’re always in your suits. I really like that navy one–”

“The double-breasted pinstripe one?” Liam asks eagerly.

Harry nods.

“That’s my favorite one, too,” Liam sighs wistfully.

Harry smiles, biting down on his bottom lip as they hit an awkward lull again, Liam watching him carefully.

“I, ah,” Harry says, fumbling for something to say. “Your sisters showed me a picture of you when you saved that nest of birds in Central Park.”

Jesus, he might as well just say he carried a watermelon.

“Oh, the birds. They never call,” Liam jokes. “They never write. After everything I did for them.”

“The nerve,” Harry says with mock offense.

They fall silent again.

“That was a long time ago,” Liam says thoughtfully after a moment.

“Yeah,” Harry sighs. “I guess we don’t get to do very many heroic things as adults, do we? Not like that anyway.”

“That’s for sure,” Liam muses, more to himself than to Harry. He looks up at Harry, his eyes earnest. “You do, though! Niall told me all about what you did for me.”

“Oh, no,” Harry downplays, waving his hand. “Jumping down to the subway tracks was insane and unusual, but really anyone would have–”

“It was heroic, Harry,” Liam says solemnly. “Thank you for what you did.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry replies bashfully.

“I don’t think I’ve ever done anything truly heroic my whole life.”

“No?” Harry questions.

“I chased a purse snatcher once–”

“Well, that’s–”

“But I pretended to pull a hamstring like ten seconds later,” Liam finishes ruefully, carding his fingers through his hair as he frowns.

“Oh,” Harry says lamely. “Well...most people wouldn’t even have chased after someone in the first place. Believe me, I work for the MTA. I see shit like that all the time.”

They sit in silence.

“You help people onto the train,” Harry offers shyly. “I’ve seen it. And you always give up your seat to someone else.”

“That’s not heroic, though,” Liam counters, his brow furrowed. “At all.”

“It is to the person who sits in it,” Harry says simply.

“You know,” Liam says, studying him closely, his gaze roving all over Harry’s face, finally looking him directly in the eyes. “You _do_ remind me of someone.”

Harry’s heart flutters in his chest, his palms sweating. Could it be possible that Liam actually remembers him? That Harry made some sort of impression on him, sitting in his booth day after day, buzzing him through the turnstiles every morning?

There’s no way...right?

Suddenly, Harry feels like he can’t breathe.

“I don’t know _who_ though,” Liam puzzles. “I mean, obviously it has to be you that I’m remembering, right? Maybe it’s all coming back to me.”

“Maybe,” Harry says, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. He looks down at his watch. “Um, I should get going.”

“So soon?” Liam frowns.

“Y-yeah,” Harry says, getting up and going to grab his coat. “I...I have to go into work for a bit.”

He doesn’t have to work. He just needs to get out of here.

“Will you come back later?” Liam asks.

Harry looks at Liam’s handsome face. His face is open and hopeful and Harry just doesn’t have it in him to say no. Plus, there’s still the matter of facing the rest of the family, no matter how hard it’s going to be.

“Yes,” Harry nods. “I can be back later this afternoon.”

“Good,” Liam smiles happily. “I’ll see you then.”

********

After his talk with Geoff and breakfast with the rest of the family, who promptly demolished the rest of the doughnuts, Louis has some deliveries to make all through Manhattan, dropping off both pieces purchased through Paynlinson furniture and some of his own commissions. He finishes just after lunchtime, making his way over to the hospital to meet the rest of the family. He parks in the garage down the street and stops at the bodega around the corner to grab a surprise for Liam. Clutching the paper bag in his left hand, he catches the elevator right as it’s about to close, pressing the button for the fifth floor.

Everything seems to be going his way today.

The elevator doors slide open and Louis steps out into the fifth floor lobby, whistling as he strides down the hall towards Liam’s room. He’s met almost immediately by the sight of Liam being wheeled out of room 505 in a wheelchair, a familiar-looking nurse pushing him.

“Louis!” Liam calls. “Where’ve you been all morning?”

“I had some work to do,” Louis replies, looking between Liam and the nurse, who he does recognize now that he’s closer. Jade, he thinks her name is. “What’s going on here? Are you making a break for it or something?”

“I’ve been discharged from the ICU,” Liam explains.

“I’m taking him down to his new room on the third floor,” the nurse adds.

“Oh my God, that’s great!” Louis exclaims. “But...where is everyone? Shouldn’t we be throwing a party or something?”

“They went to the diner around the corner for lunch,” Liam answers. “They should be back soon though.”

“Hey, it’s Jade, right?” Louis asks, smiling triumphantly when she nods. “Can I take him down?”

“That’s against protocol,” Jade says apologetically. “But tell you what, why don’t you wheel him down to the elevator banks, and I’ll meet you down there after I grab some paperwork?”

“Sounds good,” Louis says, taking her place behind the wheelchair. “Off we go, bro.”

Louis slowly pushes Liam down the hall, looking over his shoulder to make sure that Jade isn’t looking.

“Hey, Li,” Louis stage whispers, passing him the brown paper bag. “I brought you some contraband.”

It’s not _really_ contraband, but it’s fun pretending like it is. Like they’re kids again. Liam immediately goes along with it, hiding the bag in the fold of his blue robe.

“Oh my God,” Liam moans happily when he opens the bag and sees the tell-tale pink lid of the Baskin Robbins ice cream pint and the plastic spoon. “Peanut Butter and Chocolate?”

“Well, it’s–”

“Hey, you just missed Harry,” Liam interrupts, popping off the lid and digging into the ice cream. “Oh my God, this is good.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Louis says lightly, masking his disappointment.

“Yeah, Harry’s great, isn’t he?”

“Do you...remember him yet?” Louis tentatively asks, his steps faltering a bit.

“No,” Liam states, waving his spoon in the air. “But he’s still great, right?”

“Yeah,” Louis says carefully, torn between agreeing and trying not to let on just how great he thinks Harry is.

“We’re engaged, you know.”

“Yes, Liam,” Louis sighs, really not in the mood to hear Liam wax poetic about Harry. His fiancé. Fuck. “I know.”

“God, now _this_ I remember,” Liam enthuses, taking another bite of ice cream. “Fuck, that’s good. Listen, Louis, I gotta tell you. Having a near death experience changes things. Everything is better. Everything looks better, feels better.” He takes another bite. “Even this Peanut Butter and Chocolate _tastes_ better.”

“It’s Jamoca Almond Fudge,” Louis says as he parks Liam by the elevator bank.

“Really?” Liam frowns, scrunching his nose as he looks at the label. “I’ve never liked this flavor before.”

“It was all they had at the bodega, sorry.”

“Whatever,” Liam shrugs, taking another bite. “I like it now. What I’m trying to say is that I feel like a new man, Lou. I’m reborn! If you were a priest, I’d confess all my deepest and darkest secrets to you.”

“Please don’t,” Louis says drily.

“But I’m trying to be positive right now! And I feel like I need to start with a clean slate. Get a few things off my chest.”

“Just eat your ice cream,” Louis says, massaging his temples. “Please.”

“I don’t even know what my secretary sent the family for Christmas,” Liam confesses, digging his spoon into the pint.

“It was a fruit basket,” Louis sighs. “And one of those edible bouquets of iced sugar cookies?”

“Really?” Liam squeaks. “That’s–”

“Really shitty, yeah,” Louis sighs.  “I mean Doris and Ernie loved the cookies, but everyone else was obviously hurt, even if they tried to brush it off. I really hope your secretary mixed them up with a client of yours, because Jesus, Li, that’s–”

“Really shitty, right,” Liam states through a mouthful of ice cream. “And the shittiest thing is, I don’t think Sage confused them with anyone else. Or maybe she did. I’m not sure which one is worse?”

“Christ,” Louis mutters. “I don’t know either.”

“I faked not having a kidney so I could win sympathy in the election for class president our senior year.”

“That one I knew,” Louis says with fond recollection. “Niall and I helped spread the rumor, remember? I still think John Hughes owes us royalties for _Ferris Bueller._ That was epic.”

“It’s just sometimes I feel like my whole life is a lie,” Liam confesses. “Remember the birds?”

“...Yes?” Louis says cautiously.

“First I knocked their nest out of a tree with a rock,” Liam relays, his voice mournful. “And _then_ I saved them.”

“Oh my God, why are you telling me this?”

“I just want to be honest with you! It’s not like I _knew_ they were endangered birds, Louis,” Liam defends.

“Still,” Louis huffs. “Jesus, Liam.”

“I was ten!”

“Yeah, I realize that was almost twenty-five years ago, but you still talk about those fuckin’ birds all the time. It’s one of your pick-up stories, for Christ’s sake!”

“I–”

“You ready to go down to the third floor, you two?” Jade asks as she approaches, pressing the down button for the elevator.

“Please,” Louis nods, smiling tightly. “Thank you, Jade.”

They wait in silence for the elevator. It dings open and Jade pushes Liam inside, Louis following and hitting the button for the third floor. Liam pouts the whole ride, eating his ice cream sullenly. Jade looks between them, her eyebrow lifted in a silent question, and Louis shrugs, offering her another forced smile. The elevator dings and Louis steps outside, his hand holding the door as Jade wheels Liam outside. She steers him down the hall, turning into room 303. She makes quick work of helping him into his new bed and attaches his new heart monitor, clearly picking up on the tension in the room.

“Is there anything else you two need right now?” she asks brightly.

“No,” Louis says politely, looking at her and then back at Liam, who looks lost in thought. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. We’re certainly going to miss you and your family up on the fifth floor, Mr. Payne,” Jade says looking down at Liam with a sweet smile. “But no offense, we never want to see you again, okay?”

“None taken,” Liam waves, smiling weakly.

“Thanks again,” Louis says genuinely.

Jade nods, exiting the room quickly and closing the door behind her.

“I work too much,” Liam muses after a long moment. “I’m married to my job, Louis.”

“I know,” Louis replies sadly. “I haven’t seen you in months, Li. I know I’ve been busy too, but you’ve blown me off every time I’ve wanted to get together.”

“I’m a terrible boyfriend because of it,” Liam admits. “My relationships have always failed because they come second to my job. Do you remember that part in _Pretty Woman_ where Richard Gere’s ex says she talked to his secretary more than him?”

“Yeah,” Louis answers.

“That’s me,” Liam sighs. “It’s something Zayn complained about all the time before we broke up. And Danielle got so close to Sage during the year we were dating, Sage was actually a bridesmaid in her wedding last year. Just like the movie.”

“Wow,” Louis mutters.

“I know,” Liam sighs, setting the half-eaten pint of ice cream on his tray table.

“So how does this affect Harry?” Louis asks carefully. “Is he just gonna be another in a long line of new best friends for your secretary? Or is he Julia Roberts in this scenario?”

“I’m going to make a fresh start with him,” Liam answers as he adjusts his blankets. “I’m not gonna be that way with Harry, honest. I’m gonna cut back on my hours. I’ve been busting my ass to make partner, Louis, and I don’t think I’m ever going to get it. So why am I choosing this job over my relationships? And Harry, he’s...he’s...what is he? What is it about him?”

“I’d say he gets under your skin as soon as you meet him,” Louis says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “He’s like...I don’t know...he’s like some sort of Disney character with the eyes and that hair and those dimples. You instantly want to take care of him, yeah?”

Liam nods thoughtfully.

“But on the flip side, Harry’s also incredibly sharp and observant,” Louis continues, unable to stop now that he’s started. “He’s insightful. Smart. Funny. Like he _notices_ things, little things that most people wouldn’t. And he seems to always know just what to say when you need to hear it. But at the same time he’s not afraid to challenge you?”

Louis rakes his fingers through his hair.

“Did you know that he carries his fucking passport with him at all times, Liam? ” Louis laughs. “Just...ready to leave the country at a moment’s notice if you ask him to. He’d travel all the way to Europe without having any plans _just_ so he could get that stamp in his passport and see where the journey takes him. I don’t know if that makes him completely insane or just really...loveable.”

Louis flushes, immediately knowing that he’s said too much.

Oh.

This is not just a crush. He’s actually gone ahead and fallen in love with Harry Styles.

Oh, shit.

Louis can’t believe that he, the expert poker player, has gone all in on a shit hand and now all Liam needs to do is call him on it; he’s right there for the taking. He eyes Liam nervously, holding his breath as Liam stares off into space, his eyebrows furrowed as he contemplates Louis’ words.

“No, that’s not it,” Liam pronounces after what feels like an eternity but must actually be only a few seconds. “But Harry’s gotta be really special. He’s gotta be. And I can spend the rest of my life figuring out why, you know?”

Louis exhales slowly, his shoulders slumping.

“I mean, I don’t have to know now? I don’t even have to know tomorrow,” Liam babbles on, oblivious to Louis’ distress. “I don’t have to know in a year or even ten years. I don’t...I don’t have to have all the answers today or...I mean someday I hope I’ll have a clue, but that doesn’t mean I’m not ready to make a lifetime commitment! Do you know what I’m talking about, Louis? Am I making any sort of sense?”

“Not really,” Louis says weakly. “But then again, you _are_ recovering from a brain injury, I s’pose it’s pretty common.”

“What I mean is–”

The door flings open; Louis’ eyes go wide as a devastatingly handsome man with thick black hair storms in the room, his molten chocolate eyes furious as he slams the door, smoothly skulking towards the bed like a tiger.

This is a sight Louis hadn’t expected to see again.

“Zayn?” Liam squeaks.

“Scumbag!”

“What are you doing here?”

“You’re _engaged?”_ Zayn snarls, removing his black leather coat and tossing it on a chair.

Oh, shit.

“How did you–” Liam starts.

“I went to your building,” Zayn states, his eyes laser focused on Liam, “and there was this ridiculous doorman who wouldn’t let me up, even though I had a fucking _key,_ Liam, because apparently, I’m not your fucking fiancé.”

Louis barks a laugh, clapping a hand over his mouth. Good ole Graham. He should ask Sage to send him a fruit basket or something. Zayn’s eyes snap over to him, his thick eyebrows knitting together.

“Lewis,” Zayn acknowledges through clenched teeth.

“Malik,” Louis grits, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

God, Louis hates this fucking guy.

“Wait, how did you even know I was here?” Liam asks.

“I called your office,” Zayn snaps. “Now stop changing the fucking subject.”

“What...what was the subject?” Liam asks, scratching his temple in confusion, looking over at Louis for help.

“You’re _engaged,_ Liam!”

“Oh,” Liam laughs uncomfortably. “Right. That is true, I’m engaged.”

“Need I remind you that you already proposed to _me?”_ Zayn cries, his voice shrill.

“What?” Louis yelps, whirling around to Liam. “Liam, what the fuck?”

“Oh, no you don’t, Zayn,” Liam says, shaking his head. “You don’t get to do this.”

“So you didn’t propose?” Louis asks.

“No,” Liam explains, turning to Louis. “I mean, yes. I _did_ propose, but he said no.”

“No, I did not–” Zayn starts.

“Yes,” Liam says firmly, his voice even as he turns back to Zayn. “Yes, you did, Zayn. You said no and we broke up!”

“No, _no,”_ Zayn contradicts. “I was confused. We took a step back! We decided to take a break, not break _up!”_

“You moved to Berlin,” Liam exclaims, throwing his arms up in frustration. _“Berlin,_ Zayn. You crossed an ocean just to ‘get some space,’ or whatever it is you needed. That is not a ‘break,’ Zayn, that is a break- _up!”_

“Well, that’s...well,” Zayn fumbles, sweeping back a long strand of hair that’s fallen across his forehead and then putting his hands on his narrow hips. “Well, I didn’t expect you to run out and get engaged to the first gold-digging floozy you found, Liam!”

“Hey!” Louis interjects, clenching his fist, fury surging through his veins; it takes everything he has not to break Zayn’s perfect nose.

“You take that back,” Liam barks simultaneously. “Harry is _not_ a gold-digging floozy.”

“Harry?” Zayn questions, his face screwing up in distaste. “Who the fuck is Harry anyway? Harry who? How did you meet him?”

“I don’t remember,” Liam admits.

“You don’t _remember?”_

“I don’t,” Liam protests. “I don’t remember proposing!”

“Liar!”

“Give him a break,” Louis interjects fiercely. “He has amnesia!”

“That’s right,” Liam nods, tapping his fist against Louis’ in solidarity. “I was in a _coma,_ Zayn. I have amnesia.”

“Amnesia,” Zayn sneers. “Isn’t that convenient for you?”

“Not really, no,” Liam huffs, grabbing his pint of ice cream and digging his spoon in vigorously, stirring it around until it’s soupy. He takes a bite, chocolate dripping off his spoon. “Considering I can’t remember my own fiancé, I’d say it’s pretty damn inconvenient, Zayn.”

“Is there a point to this visit?” Louis asks pointedly. “Or did you just come here to berate my brother? Who just woke up from a _coma,_ by the way.”

“Oh please, he’s fine,” Zayn snaps, rolling his eyes. “Look at him, he’s eating ice cream, for Christ’s sake, and besides, this is the best hospital in the city.”

“Thanks for your concern,” Louis grits out through clenched teeth. “Now, I think you should go.”

Zayn scowls at Louis and then turns back to Liam.

“Fine,” Zayn spits. “I want all of my stuff back. I want my cat back.”

“Fine,” Liam replies, jutting his chin as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Then I want all of _my_ stuff back!”

“What stuff?” Zayn laughs cruelly. “I don’t _have_ any of your stuff, Liam. You never left a single thing at my place and we’ve been together for two fucking years!”

“You have your nose,” Liam shrugs, taking another bite of ice cream.

“What?” Louis yelps as Zayn gasps in horror.

“My nose,” Zayn gulps, shielding it protectively. “You can’t take my nose back!”

“Why not?” Liam challenges. “I did pay for it after all.”

Louis _knew_ Zayn’s nose was too goddamn perfect to be natural.

“Did you seriously pay for his _nose job,_ Li?” Louis asks incredulously, looking between the pair of them. “Talk about a gold-digging floozy.”

“Fine,” Zayn hisses, completely ignoring Louis as he shoves up the sleeves of his black sweater, revealing the intricate sleeves of tattoos decorating his forearms. “Then how about you take these back too? I mean, you paid for them. Should I saw off my arms for you? Is that what you want from me?”

“Nah, you can keep ’em,” Liam waves dismissively. “I’m a brand new man, Zayn. I’ve turned over a new leaf. I don’t need anything from you. And take the cat and whatever you want from the apartment, I don’t need it. I’ll call and make sure the doorman allows you up.”

Zayn’s face twists up in fury, distorting his handsome features into something ugly.  

“Fine,” he sneers, grabbing his coat. “This is all fine. You go ahead and marry him, you one-balled bastard. See if I give a flying fuck what you do. Have a nice life.”

With that, Zayn grabs his coat and storms out of the room, slamming the door so hard the painting on the wall rattles.

“Jesus,” Louis breathes after a few moments of stunned silence. “Was he always like that?”

“Pretty much,” Liam sighs, his voice troubled as he sets his ice cream aside. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, we didn’t fight _all_ the time, but Zayn has always been...passionate.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Louis scoffs.

“He never fought fair,” Liam admits, his voice small. “He was always so good at like...backing me into a corner until the only option was me giving in and giving him what he wanted, y’know? I could never win an argument. Not that it should be about winning or keeping score, but you know what I mean, right?”

“Why did you put up with it?” Louis asks gently.

“I don’t know,” Liam shrugs. “I don’t want to be that way anymore, Louis. I don’t want my relationship to be that way, so completely one-sided.”

In that moment, Louis sees how good Harry is going to be for his brother and his heart clenches painfully at the realization.

He can’t get in the way of that.

“Well,” Louis says, forcing a smile onto his face as he claps Liam on the shoulder. “Moving on to bigger and better things, yeah? Greener pastures and all that.”

“Yeah,” Liam smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Greener pastures and all that.”

********

Harry takes a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves as he weaves his way through the end of workday foot traffic on Tenth Avenue, slowly making his way back to the hospital. He’d spent most of the day alternating between stress cleaning his entire apartment and zoning out in front of the TV, waiting for the phone to ring, waiting for Niall to let him know that the Paynes knew that he was never Liam’s fiancé and it was all over.

The call never came.

By four-thirty, he’s had enough. He had promised Liam he would come back and visit him again, and goddammit, he may be a liar, but he’s also a man of his word. He’d bundled up, kissed Velma goodbye, and set off for the hospital.

Harry approaches the familiar doors, surprised to see Niall standing just outside of them, his back to the street, his cellphone pressed to his ear. Harry goes right up behind him, fixing his features in a stern expression and tapping him on the shoulder; Niall startles, turning around, his blue eyes going wide when he recognizes Harry.

“Harry!” Niall exclaims, flipping his phone shut and shoving it in his pocket. “There you are! Jesus, I’ve been calling you for the last fifteen minutes.”

“How did they take it?” Harry asks, getting straight to the point.

“What?”

“The Paynes,” Harry clarifies. “What was their reaction to the news? Do I even need to go up there? I mean, of course I’m going to go up there, I just need to know what to expect, Niall.”

“I haven’t told them yet,” Niall says.

“What?” Harry squawks. “Niall! How could you have not told them? You seriously didn’t tell them? You’ve had all fucking day! I can’t...really?”

“I told you I was handling it,” Niall says confidently. “And I think I’ve handled it, if you’d just–”

“This is you handling it?” Harry exclaims, ready to tear his hair out in frustration. “You’re _handling_ it. What does that mean? What is there to even handle?”

“Just listen to me–”

“No,” Harry says, shaking his head furiously. “No more, Niall. I can’t take this anymore, you need to listen to me.”

“Okay,” Niall nods “I’m listening, but I had this idea–”

“Niall,” Harry says seriously, taking him by the shoulders and looking him in the eyes. “No more crazy ideas. I love you, but you’re fired.”

“Fired?” Niall sputters incredulously.

“Fired,” Harry repeats, patting his shoulders before releasing him. “Now excuse me, I’m going to go up there and tell Liam and his family the _truth._ Because it’s what they deserve. Come with me or don’t. I’ll see you on the flip side.”

Harry marches off towards the double doors.

“Harry, wait,” Niall calls after him. “They mo–”

Harry doesn’t hear the rest of what Niall says, the automatic doors closing behind him. He marches towards the elevator, adrenaline thrumming through his veins as he slams his finger on the button.

“Come on,” Harry mutters, punching the button repeatedly, as if that would make the elevator come faster.

The doors slide open; Harry patiently waits for the car to empty and then gets inside, pressing the button for the fifth floor and then immediately pressing the button for the doors to close.

“Harry, wait!” Niall calls right as the doors slide shut.

Harry knows he should feel bad for leaving Niall in the dust, but he doesn’t; he’s just ready to end this once and for all. He fidgets during the elevator ride, impatiently tapping his foot, and marches out onto the fifth floor as soon as the doors slide open.

“Harry?” Jade asks, looking up from her chair behind the nurses station. “What are you doing up here?”

“I need to see Liam,” Harry answers with determination. “Right now.”

“Oh, hon, did no one call you?” Jade frowns. “He’s been discharged from the ICU. We moved him down to the third floor this afternoon.”

“Oh,” Harry says, jamming his finger on the down button. “Okay. What room?”

“Are you okay?” Jade asks, coming out from behind the desk, clutching a clipboard. “You seem...agitated.”

“I’m telling them the truth,” Harry states, pressing the button repeatedly again. “Right now. What room?”

“Hang on, I’m coming with you,” Jade answers swiftly. “It’s really my fault you’re in this mess, I can help you explain.”

“I’m the one who chose to keep it going,” Harry replies as the doors rattle open. “This is all on me.”

“Harry,” Jade says, touching his arm gently. “You’re not alone in this, okay?”

“Thank you,” Harry says gratefully as the doors open. He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. “Let’s do this.”

“He’s in room 303,” Jade says, pointing down the hall. “Right this way.”

They reach the door, which is closed. Harry can hear voices inside, indicating that some of the family is in there with him. He swallows hard, lifting his hand to knock.

“You can do this,” Jade says quietly.

Harry nods, suddenly feeling like he wants to cry as he raps on the door.

“Come in,” Jay’s voice calls.

Harry opens the door, stepping inside, Jade following close behind him. Jay, Geoff, and Niall (that sneaky bastard) all gathered on one side of Liam’s bed, Jay sitting, while Geoff and Niall stand behind her. Jade waits for him just inside the door, making herself as inconspicuous as possible.

Fleetingly, Harry is glad that Louis isn’t there.

“Harry!” Liam exclaims happily, beaming at him. “You came back.”

“Y-yeah,” Harry stammers. “Of course I did. I said I would, right? H-hi, everyone.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Jay smiles. “How was your day?”

“Good, good,” Harry answers. “Listen, Liam, there’s something I need to say–”

“Wait,” Liam interrupts. “There’s something I need to say, too. Okay if I go first?”

Liam’s eyes are so earnest that Harry can’t find it in himself to say no. Really, what’s a couple more minutes prolonging the inevitable?

“Sure,” Harry nods. “You go first.”

“Harry, facing death makes a man want to evaluate his life,” Liam starts, sitting a bit taller in his bed. “I’ve been thinking about mine a lot in the past twenty-four hours, and I haven’t really liked what I’ve seen. I mean, on paper, it looks like I have it all, right? I’ve got private box seats at Yankee Stadium, a lucrative investment portfolio, a closet full of designer clothes, a killer apartment in the city, and a beach house out in Bridgehampton. I’ve got every material thing I’ve ever dreamed of having, but the thing I’ve realized Harry, is all of that isn’t enough.”

Harry’s heart starts thudding in his chest.

“None of that really matters if I don’t have someone I can truly enjoy those things with,” Liam continues. “Someone that I can trust. Someone that I would want to start a family with.”

“Oh my God,” Jade murmurs behind him.

“Harry, you were there when I needed someone most,” Liam smiles. “You gave me a second chance at life. It took a coma to wake me up and make me see things clearly. My family loves you.”

Harry looks at Jay, who smiles and nods, brushing a tear away; Geoff beams proudly, while Niall looks at him with a smug expression, his blue eyes sparkling.

“What the hell?” Liam laughs, throwing his hands in the air. “I might as well love you, too!”

Might as well?

“What I’m trying to say is...I mean, say for the second time, since I’ve done this already? But I want to remember it this time. Harry...Harry...I’m sorry, Harry, what’s your middle name?”

“E-Edward,” Harry gulps, his palms sweating. “It’s Edward.”

“Harry Edward Styles,” Liam grins. “Will you marry me?”

********

Harry stands in front of his closet, chewing his lip in contemplation.

He owns two suits, a black one and a gray one that he wore in his friend Mitch’s wedding two summers ago. He dismisses the black one; there are too many bad memories associated with it, memories that he doesn’t want tarnishing his own wedding day.

Because he’s getting married the day after tomorrow.

He still can’t believe it.

The moments after Liam’s proposal are a little hazy; all he really remembers is the way Jay burst into happy tears and how Jade nearly fainted from shock, her clipboard clattering to the ground as she slumped against the wall, Niall quickly grabbing her a chair. He remembers Geoff embracing him, welcoming him to the family for a second time. He remembers being swept up in the emotion of the moment, stammering out a simple “yes” and the way Liam smiled happily, squeezing his hand and declaring that he wanted to get married as soon as possible, even if he’s still in the hospital.

He’s about to get everything he’s ever wanted from the moment he first laid eyes on Liam Payne. It’s all being handed to him on a silver platter. It’s all playing out exactly how he’d imagined it might in all his daydreams, all of his little white lies of the past week suddenly becoming reality. He’s Liam’s actual fiancé now, no more pretending or worrying he’s going to be found out.

So why isn’t he more over the moon about it? He _should_ be shouting it from the rooftops, but all he can do is stare at his closet, still somewhat in shock that it’s all happening in the first place.

Harry shrugs the gray suit jacket on over his t-shirt, eyeing his reflection critically in the mirror, nodding in satisfaction when he sees that it still fits him like a glove, showcasing the line of his broad shoulders and the slight curve of his narrow waist. He’s confident the pants will fit as well.

_I might as well love you, too._

That bit from Liam’s proposal keeps cycling through his brain on repeat.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? They don’t even know each other. They’ve had a total of two (not _even_ two) meaningful conversations; Harry may be in love with Liam’s family and the way he fits in there, but he’s not in love with Liam. Sure, he loves the idea and the fantasy of Liam, but he’s not in love with _Liam._ Not yet.

But he _could_ be.

After all, Liam’s been nothing but sweet and kind to him since he woke up. So what if there’s no spark there yet? That can come as they get to know each other. Harry knows that instant sparks fade eventually and you can’t build a relationship on the little zip that shoots up your spine when your crush touches you. Besides, not every relationship can be like his parents’ fairy-tale love story. His mom and dad were an exception to the rule. Who actually knows that someone is the love of their life all because they were given a silly light-up globe from a flea market?

Harry’s heart clenches as his eyes fall on his mother’s globe, perched on the top of his bookcase, the blue and green paper starting to yellow with age.

No. The best and strongest relationships are built over time with a foundation of trust and respect. Yes, he realizes that things are moving at hyperspeed with Liam, and honestly, they should really just go on a _date_ before getting married, but really _who cares?_ So what if they’re doing things in reverse as long as they get there eventually?

Which they will.

Harry rifles through his closet for shirt choices, not wanting to wear the basic white button-down that he wore at Mitch’s wedding. It’s his _wedding day_ and he wants to make a statement. He finally narrows his choices down to a simple seafoam green button-down that complements the pearly gray of the suit and a high-necked pink blouse embroidered with delicate silver flowers that ties in a floppy bow at the neck. He slides them both off the hangers, holding them up in front of the mirror, judging how they look against the suit. They both work in different ways and Harry can’t decide which one looks better. He feels like Liam would be more drawn to the button-down, but he can’t help but feel drawn to the soft pink.

“What do you think?” Harry asks Velma, who watches him from her spot in the middle of his bed.

Velma meows, her orange tail swishing.

“Yeah, I don’t know either,” Harry sighs. “I like them both.”

Someone knocks on his door. Harry looks at his watch and sighs.

There’s really only one person it can be at this hour.

“I swear to God,” Harry calls, tossing one shirt over each shoulder as he heads towards the door. “I thought we talked about this! You better not have any flowers and I already told you I don’t want to move in with you, N–”

Harry swings the door open, his heart skipping a beat when he reveals not Nick Grimshaw but Louis Tomlinson.

“–ouis,” Harry stammers dumbly.

“Well,” Louis smirks, clutching a brown paper bag in his hand. “Good thing I don’t have any flowers, then. And honestly, Harry, I really think that under these circumstances, I don’t think it’s a good idea that we move in together, do you? So I think you’re set there.”

“I thought you were Nick,” Harry says, raking his hand through his hair and scrunching up the ends.

“Y’know, I get that a lot,” Louis grins.

They smile at each other goofily for a few moments.

“Um, do you want to come in?” Harry asks finally, holding the door open for him.

“Sure,” Louis replies with a crinkly-eyed smile. “Thanks.”

Louis steps inside, his eyes roving around the living room as he takes the apartment in; Harry closes the door behind him and self-consciously adjusts some of the clutter on his little junk table.

“This is nice,” Louis pronounces.

“It’s no loft in Williamsburg,” Harry comments. “I’m sure you have a lot more space–”

“No, I like it,” Louis smiles. “It’s cozy. Very you.”

Velma makes her presence known, strolling into the living room with a loud meow. She immediately goes to Louis, butting her head against his ankle and then rubbing against his leg.

“Oh, hello,” Louis chuckles, crouching down and scritching between her ears. “You must be the famous Velma.”

“The one and only,” Harry smiles, champagne bubbles fizzing in his belly at the sight of Louis and his cat.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Louis coos to Velma.

Velma flops on her side, batting at Louis’ hand with her paw. Louis laughs, resting the paper bag on one of his knees, giving her soft white belly a few good rubs. Velma purrs loudly.

Harry feels like he might explode.

Louis looks up at him, his smile melting away as he takes in the suit coat and the two shirts slung over Harry’s shoulders.

“Oh, wow,” Louis breathes, giving Velma’s belly one final pat before hoisting himself up to his full height. “Is that...that’s for the wedding, yeah?”

“Oh,” Harry says, blushing furiously, as he pulls the shirts off his shoulder, clutching them in one hand. “Yeah, I...I was trying to pick out a shirt to go with my suit.”

“The pink is nice,” Louis offers. “Definitely different.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, studying both of the shirts again. “I was thinking Liam would like the green more.”

“Probably,” Louis shrugs. “But which one do _you_ like, Harry?”

Jesus, that feels like a loaded question.

“I like the pink,” Harry admits softly. “It’s prettier.”

“Then wear the pink,” Louis says decisively. “I think it will look great. If Liam doesn’t like it, he’s insane.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiles, carefully draping the shirts over his armchair. “So...what’s up, Lou?”

“Two things,” Louis replies.

“Okay,” Harry says, leaning against the back of the arm chair. “I’m all ears.”

“I talked to Geoff this morning.”

“You did?” Harry squeaks. “Jesus, I know you said you were planning to talk to him, but I didn’t realize you meant _today._ Oh my God, how did it go?”

“Really well,” Louis grins, sweeping his hair to the side. “I can’t believe how well it went, actually. Y’know, I thought it would be a simple parting of the ways, if anything, but Geoff actually offered to buy me out so I could have a little nest egg for my business.”

“Oh, wow,” Harry sighs, breaking out in a huge smile. “Louis, that’s...that’s amazing.”

Harry’s instinct is to hug him, but he feels that might be somewhat inappropriate, so he settles for just grinning at him like an idiot from his perch on the back of the armchair.

“Yeah,” Louis says, scratching the back of his neck, a little bashful. “I mean, feel free to go ahead and say ‘I told you so’ at any time. It would be merited.”

“I’m not going to say that,” Harry says fondly. “I’m just going to say...congratulations. You deserve this so, so much, Louis. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Louis says, smiling softly at him.

“So what’s the second thing?” Harry asks after a long moment.

“What?” Louis asks, seemingly shaking himself out of a daze.

“You said you had two things,” Harry reminds him.

“Oh, right,” Louis huffs, looking down at the paper bag in his hand. “I, um, I got you something?”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, holding out the bag. “I wanted to give it to you before all the wedding gifts started piling up.”

Harry stands, crossing over to him and taking the bag, its weight heavy in his hands.

“Lou,” Harry says, pulling a plain white box out out of the bag, sliding his finger under the little piece of tape holding it shut. “You didn’t have to–”

“It’s nothing, really,” Louis shrugs. “I was making a delivery in Little Italy this afternoon. I walked by a tiny little shop and I saw this in the window and I thought of you…”

Louis trails off, stuffing his hands in his pockets as Harry pops the lid open. Harry gasps, feeling like all the air has been punched out of his body as he pulls out a snow globe with an intricate cityscape carved in the base, the Duomo sitting in the middle of the glass globe, glittery snow raining down on it.

“Florence,” Harry marvels, completely awestruck as he looks up at Louis, his eyes wide. His heart is pounding in his chest ninety to nothing.

“Florence,” Louis nods, his voice breathy and his blue eyes bright.

Harry feels like he’s just been struck by a bolt of lightning because Louis just gave him the world.

God, Harry loves him.

Holy shit, Harry is _in love_ with him.

“It’s...God...Louis,” Harry stammers, his throat tight. “Thank you. It’s...it’s so beautiful. I love it.”

“You’re welcome,” Louis says shyly, ruffling his hair and then smoothing it down. “And I...I just wanted to say that I think Liam...well...he’s a very lucky guy, Haz.”

Harry’s reeling, feeling like the room is spinning around him.

“You’re just saying that ’cause I’m going to be your brother-in-law,” he jokes weakly.

“Yeah,” Louis laughs and Harry swears he hears a hint of bitterness there. “Brothers.”

Harry stares at him, desperately trying to decipher what Louis means by that.

“I guess...I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other then,” Harry says softly.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Louis nods, smiling tightly as he crosses over to the door. “Well, I should get going. I’ll...I’ll see you at the wedding. Niall and I are giving Liam probably the lamest bachelor party ever at the hospital tomorrow, so.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, his heart still rabbiting in his chest.

“See ya, Curly,” Louis says softly, opening the door and leaving the apartment.

Harry stands still in the middle of his living room, his mind racing.

This is all wrong. He can’t marry Liam. Not if he loves Louis.

Not if Louis loves _him._

_Does_ Louis love him?

Harry looks down at the snowglobe, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he carefully shakes it, watching the sparkly flakes float down around the perfect scale model of the cathedral he’s longed to see his whole life. His city of dreams. Louis remembered that.

Louis _might_ love him.

“Louis!” Harry exclaims, suddenly remembering how to move. He scrambles over to the door and flings it open, rushing out into the hallway. “Louis!”

Louis stops halfway down the stairwell, turning around and looking back up at him.

“Yeah?” Louis rasps breathlessly.

“Can you,” Harry gulps as he takes a deep breath. “Can you give me any reason not to marry your brother?”

“What?” Louis asks cautiously. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Harry says, smiling brightly as he hugs the snow globe to his chest. “Any reason? Maybe he’s a total slob who never does the dishes? Maybe he works too much? Maybe we’re polar opposites and we’ll make each other crazy and it’ll never work? Just...can you give me a reason not to marry Liam?”

Louis looks at him for a long time, a myriad of emotions flitting across his beautiful face. Harry looks at him hopefully, feeling like he’s about to come out of his skin as he wills Louis to just say _something._ Anything. Finally, Louis sighs, looking down at the floor and taking a shuddery breath. He looks back up at Harry and Harry’s heart sinks into his stomach as he literally sees something shutter in Louis’ blue eyes, turning them a cloudy gray.

“I can’t,” Louis says quietly, his shoulders slumping. “Harry, I can’t give you a reason.”

Harry feels like he’s been punched in the stomach.

“Oh,” Harry manages to choke out, clamping his teeth down on his bottom lip, the sudden jolt of pain keeping his tears of disappointment at bay. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis says, his voice barely audible.

Harry shakes his head, forcing a smile on his face, his chin wobbling ever so slightly. Louis nods, his face pained as he turns back around, trotting down the stairs, hitting the door at the bottom with a little more force than necessary as he goes.

He never looks back.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes into detail about dealing with grief in his conversation with James. As always, feel free to reach out if you need specifics <3

The next afternoon, Harry barges into James’ office on his lunch break, marching over to him and dropping one of the ivory pieces of cardstock that Fizzy had delivered that morning on his desk. 

“What’s this?” James asks, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he slides his salad aside.

“It’s a wedding invitation,” Harry clips, spinning on his heel and heading for the door, hoping to head off any questions. Ever since the moment Louis failed to give him a reason not to marry Liam, Harry’s been single-minded in his determination. He doesn’t want to talk about marrying Liam anymore, with anyone, he just wants to marry him already. 

“A wedding invitation?” James parrots, picking up the card. 

“Commitment ceremony invitation, if you want to be technical about it–”

“Harry, wait a damn minute!” James exclaims, his eyes going wide as he reads the card. “This is  _ your _ wedding. Or commitment ceremony. Whatever. It’s a wedding and your name on this invitation!” 

“Yes, James,” Harry sighs. “I know.” 

James sets the card down, narrowing his eyes at him. 

“Whom are we marrying, Harold?” 

“Liam Payne,” Harry answers, striding back over to the desk and pointing at Liam’s name, which Jay had typed on the Paynes’ family computer just beneath his own, painstakingly going over the scant details of the ceremony before printing out the few invites. “Look, it says it right there. Liam James Payne.” 

“The coma guy?” James groans. “Harry, are you insane?” 

“Yes, James,” Harry admits, suddenly exhausted as he tosses his hands in the air. “Yes, I’m insane.” 

“But Harry–” 

“You know, almost every morning I come to my booth and just sit there like a lump as everyone else passes me by, too wrapped up in living their own lives to even notice me,” Harry starts to rant, the words spilling out in a rush despite his exhaustion. “Nobody ever notices me, James. It’s like I’m completely invisible. I work every holiday because I’m the only one who doesn’t have a family. I’m completely alone. I’ve been alone for the past two years, and I’m  _ tired. _ I go home every night and have one-sided conversations with a cat. Which, don’t get me wrong, I love Velma with my entire heart and soul, but she’s still a cat, James. She doesn’t talk back to me.” 

Harry draws a ragged breath, the floodgates fully open as the whirlwind of emotions from the past week rush over him. 

“When I tell the few people who  _ do _ see me that I lost my mom,” Harry continues, his voice wavering, “they don’t actually know what I mean. They don’t get that I lost her bit by bit over years. That I put everything on hold for her, that I built my whole adult life around taking care of her. I don’t regret that, because she was my best friend, James. But I never actually thought she was going to die and then all of a sudden she was gone. I didn’t...I wasn’t ready to be alone. Like  _ really _ alone, not just ‘I don’t have a date this weekend’ alone. No  _ wonder _ I’m invisible, no one really wants to hear this shit, I’m like a fucking cautionary tale, this could happen to you. Who wants that constant reminder? No one.”

“Oh, Harry,” James says quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

“But now there’s this man, and he’s kind and handsome and  _ perfectly _ nice, and he wants to marry me, James. He has an amazing family that’s embraced me with open arms from the moment I met them. They’re not just putting up with me, they don’t like me for who they  _ think _ I am. They like  _ me, _ I think they might even  _ love _ me, and they actually want me around. And spending time with them this week, despite all the lies and everything that’s come with them, it feels like it’s the first time that I’ve been able to breathe since Mom died. Like there was an actual weight on my chest and it’s being lifted and I just...don’t I deserve this? A family?” 

Harry brushes away a tear he didn’t realize he was crying.

“So I said yes to Liam’s proposal,” Harry finishes, straightening his spine. “If that makes me insane, then yes, I’m a total raving lunatic. And you know what? I’m fine with it.” 

“Harry,” James says cautiously. “I understand where you’re coming from, but...don’t you think you’re rushing into things? I mean, the wedding is tomorrow!  _ Tomorrow, _ Harry.” 

“Yes, I know, James,” Harry retorts witheringly. “I know it’s tomorrow. But you know what? I wish it was yesterday. Because if I’d married Liam yesterday, then today, I would have a family. Today I would actually belong to someone. Hell, it would mean that  _ today _ I would be on my honeymoon, that I would  _ finally _ have a stamp in my passport, and it would say ‘Italy’ on it!” 

Harry sniffles, swiping at his cheeks as James looks at him sympathetically. 

“I need to get back to work,” Harry sighs wearily. “Will you come tomorrow? Please?” 

“Of course,” James replies. “I’ll be there.”

“Thanks,” Harry nods, heading to the door. 

“Harry,” James calls after him.

Harry halts at the door, his hand on the knob as he looks back at James, raising his eyebrows in response.

“What happened with the brother?” James asks curiously. 

_ Harry, I can’t give you a reason.  _

Harry sighs heavily and bows his head, his heart clenching as the pain of Louis’ rejection slices through him like a knife. He bites his lip hard, a stray tear rolling down his cheek as he shrugs in defeat.

“He didn’t want me.” 

*********

Louis shivers violently as he walks the short distance from the parking garage to the hospital entrance, draping Liam’s garment bag over his arm and hugging it closer to his body for extra warmth. The bitter January air renders his thick wool dress coat and suit jacket practically useless, the cold cutting right to the bone and his breath coming out in puffy, white clouds. It’s the kind of day that Louis hates, a day that by all appearances  _ looks _ sunny and warm from the comfort of your living room but you don’t realize just how fucking miserable it is until you set foot out the door. 

So, really, it’s only fitting that today is Liam and Harry’s wedding day. 

He’s doing his best to put on a happy face for Liam and the rest of the family. He really is. Louis had smiled his way through the makeshift bachelor party the night before, dutifully eating the Baskin Robbins cake Niall had picked up and nodding along as they popped open a bottle of sparkling cider to toast to Liam’s happiness, stumbling his way through it when it was his turn. He’d smiled as Liam hooted and hollered after beating him handily in poker for the first time in their lives thanks to Louis’ concentration being shot to shit and the cards never even going his way in the first place. Which, again, fitting.

He smiled his way through the big family breakfast this morning as Jay laid out the game plan for the day, from Lottie and Fizzy getting the flowers to decorate the chapel to Niall taking care of the rings to Louis swinging by Liam’s apartment to get his suit. And now, Louis pastes on a smile as he steps inside, striding over to the elevator bank and pressing the call button, heading up to the the third floor to help Liam get ready for his wedding. Louis feels like all he’s done today is smile. 

And he’s going to keep smiling as Harry and Liam exchange their vows, all the while trying desperately not to let on how utterly heartbroken he is. 

Because that’s what brothers who are in love with their brother’s fiancé do. 

“Did you bring my suit?” Liam asks as soon as Louis walks into the room. 

“Yep,” Louis replies, holding up the garment bag and laying it out over the foot of the bed. “It’s right here. Let’s get you dressed, yeah?” 

Liam climbs out of bed, carefully wheeling his IV pole around to the other side as Louis shrugs off his coat, revealing his dark blue suit with a subtle checked pattern. 

“Oh,” Liam frowns, looking him up and down. “You’re going to clash with me.” 

“What?” Louis asks, adjusting his burgundy tie, feeling like it’s strangling him. 

“That’s a different blue than mine,” Liam explains, his nose wrinkling. “Plus, the checks won’t really go with pinstripes?” 

“Li,” Louis sighs, infinitely patient. “You said you wanted me in a blue suit. This is my blue suit.” 

“It’ll do, I suppose,” Liam shrugs after studying him for a moment. “I mean, there’s nothing else to be done.”

“Thank you, Liam,” Louis deadpans. “So glad you approve of my choice for your shotgun wedding. I mean, what’s the rush? Is Harry pregnant or something?” 

“Ha, ha, very funny, you’re so funny,” Liam snarks, unzipping the garment bag. “What’s so wrong with wanting to start my new li–ugggggh, no, Louis!” 

“What? What did I do?” Louis asks, his eyes wide. 

Liam turns to him, a scowl on his face as he holds up his navy blue pinstripe suit. 

“This is the wrong suit!”

“What?” Louis protests, shaking his head in confusion. “You said the navy pinstripe! That’s a navy pinstripe!” 

“No, I said the navy blue  _ double-breasted _ pinstripe,” Liam whines. “This is the single-breasted! Look! One row of buttons, the lapels are all wrong–” 

“You have like ten navy suits, Liam,” Louis groans, massaging his temples, feeling a tension headache building behind them. “I saw pinstripes and I grabbed them. I didn’t realize there was a difference–” 

“That one’s my favorite,” Liam says petulantly, shucking his pajama bottoms. He grabs the suit pants and steps into them. “It’s  _ Harry’s  _ favorite.”

“You can wear it to the reception Mom and Dad want to throw,” Louis offers. “When your mom and the girls can fly in. We’ll do proper photos and everything then, okay?”

“Okay,” Liam mutters, his tone indicating that it’s definitely  _ not _ okay. “Did you remember shoes at least?” 

“Shit,” Louis curses, moving to sweep his hair aside, stopping himself just in time as he remembers that he’s styled it back for the occasion. “Shoes.” 

“Louis!”

“Listen, Bridezilla,” Louis snaps. “I’m doing my fucking best here, okay? Lay off.” 

Liam’s jaw drops, his mouth forming a perfect O-shape; Louis winces, his eyes squeezing shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“What did you call me?” Liam asks curiously. 

“...Bridezilla?” Louis replies, peeking one eye open. 

“Like...Bride and Godzilla?” Liam snickers, tucking his striped pajama top into his pants. “Did you just make that up?” 

“Sadly, no,” Louis admits with a chuckle, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. “Read it in some article last year, thought it was apt.” 

“Yeah,” Liam replies, blowing out a big breath. “I’m sorry, Lou, I’m just really nervous. I know you’re doing your best.” 

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t be a real wedding day if abuse wasn’t being heaped upon the best man,” Louis quips, smiling tightly. 

Liam laughs, zipping up his pants and buttoning them. 

“I guess it’s not worth getting upset about,” Liam shrugs, fiddling with his IV pole and looking up at the hanging bag of fluids. “I can get married in my slippers. I can’t even put a proper shirt on with this IV, much less a jacket. I’m gonna look ridiculous.” 

“Nah,” Louis dismisses, walking over to the bed. He slides the jacket off its hanger and drapes it over Liam’s shoulders. “Maybe you’ll start a new fashion trend. Coat capes.” 

Liam shuffles over to the en suite, opening the door and flicking the light on, studying his reflection in the mirror. 

“Yep,” Liam huffs. “I look ridiculous. You can say it. I look ridiculous, right?” 

“You look fine,” Louis assures him. 

The thing is, he’s not just blowing smoke up Liam’s ass. He’s looking healthier every day, the sickly hospital pallor faded completely; his face is freshly shaven and his hair is swooped up in its usual style. Sure, he looks a little silly in his bedroom slippers and silky pajama top, but the colors complement the suit, so he looks pulled together, at the very least. 

“You’re still in the hospital, Li,” Louis says gently. “Harry knows that. You look fine.” 

“Dr. Higgins said I might be discharged as soon as tomorrow,” Liam says. “I wonder how soon I could take Harry on our honeymoon. Doesn’t Jamaica sound perfect right about now?  I know I could use some R&R by the beach with a big drink in a coconut. Get out of this damn cold.” 

“Harry wants to go to Europe,” Louis states.

“Oh, yeah?” Liam asks, smoothing the sides of his hair. “He never said.” 

Louis’ stomach does a little flip, the knowledge that Harry only shared Florence with him doing funny things to his insides. 

“Europe would be just as cold this time of year, though,” Liam continues, more to himself than to Louis as he straightens the coat-cape on his shoulders. “Jamaica would be better. Europe can wait.” 

Louis loves his brother dearly, but he really can be a selfish douchebag sometimes. He’s not sure if he’s jealous that Liam gets to be the one taking Harry on trips or if he’s furious at him for denying Harry that Italian stamp as the first one in his passport. 

Both. It’s definitely both. 

“You suck,” Louis blurts out before he can stop himself. 

“I suck or this outfit sucks?” Liam asks, turning back around. “Tell the truth. For real this time.”

“You know,” Louis laughs helplessly, not even surprised at how Liam is still fixated on his clothes. “It’s a toss-up.” 

Liam frowns, looking at Louis intently. 

“Are you okay, Lou? You seem off.” 

“I’m fine,” Louis lies, his voice strangled. “I’m just...tired. It’s been a long week.” 

“I hate to ask this, ’cause I know you have a lot on your plate,” Liam says carefully. “But do you have the rings?”

“Niall is getting them,” Louis replies. 

“You rang?” Niall cackles, sticking his head in the room. “I swear my ears were burning as I was walking down the hall.” 

“Do you have the rings?” Liam asks. 

“Sure do,” Niall says, cracking one of the two black velvet boxes open, revealing a shiny, plain platinum band. “Nice, right?”

Louis frowns, studying the basic band. It doesn’t  _ look _ like Harry is the thing. He can’t square the plain ring before him with the image of Harry trying on shirts for the ceremony, so clearly preferring the delicate, frilly pink over the simple green. Harry deserves something special, something unique. 

Something pretty. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to use your grandfather’s ring?” Louis asks, scratching the back of his neck. “Something a little more special?” 

“No, no,” Liam assures him. “Harry seems like he’d like something simple, right?” 

Wrong. 

“He just doesn’t seem like he’s a flashy jewelry kind of guy,” Liam continues, snapping the box closed and passing it to Louis. “Mind holding on to that, best man?” 

“Sure,” Louis says tightly, pocketing the black velvet box, its weight feeling like an anvil in his pocket.

“Well, then,” Niall grins, clapping his hands together as he looks Liam up and down. “This is a look.” 

“I told you I looked ridiculous,” Liam scowls at Louis, reaching to slide the coat off his shoulders. 

Louis is going to explode. 

“No, no,” Niall says hastily, looking back and forth between Louis and Liam in concern. He places his hands on Liam’s shoulders, looking him in the eyes. “You look great. Wearing your coat like a cape! Setting a new trend, I like it. Like the preppy Ivy League look, but power suited. Really on brand there, Li. We’d copy you, but the groom needs to look special.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Liam says affectionately, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you for being here.”

“Where else would I be?” Niall laughs, clapping him on the back. “My baby’s getting married.” 

“Niall, I’m three weeks older than you.” 

“Like I said, my baby’s getting married.” Niall says as he releases him. He looks down at his watch, tapping the face. “Speaking of which, it’s showtime, boys. How about we get our boy married?” 

Louis smiles. 

Because there’s nothing else he can do. 

********

Harry rushes down the hospital hall, his heart thudding in his chest as he searches for the hospital chapel. 

He’s late to his own wedding. 

It’s been one of those mornings. Harry slept through his alarm. Velma vomited on the couch. The hot water went out halfway through his shower, giving him a very rude awakening. There was no milk for his coffee, just a few pathetic drops left in his carton. His curls refused to cooperate and it took way too many attempts to get his bow just right. Tenth Avenue was be littered with packs of slow walkers that Harry had to bob and weave through, even blatantly walking in the street at times.

And now, he’s lost in the corridors of the second floor of Mount Sinai, frantically searching for the freaking chapel. He turns a corner, sighing with relief when he sees Niall standing outside a pair of double doors halfway down the hall, tapping his foot as he checks his watch. 

“Niall!” Harry calls breathlessly. 

“Harry!” Niall exclaims, his eyes wide. “Jesus, we thought you’d run away on us or something. Where’ve you been?” 

“It’s been a morning,” Harry replies, puffing out his cheeks with a heavy exhale. “And I think I took a wrong turn coming off the elevator, I’ve been wandering around this floor for ages. But I’m here now. I’m so sorry to have kept everyone waiting.” Harry looks down at his wrist. Of course he forgot his watch. “How late am I?” 

“Almost ten minutes,” Niall replies easily, cracking open the doors, sticking his head in and giving a thumbs up. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m gonna get you a cellphone for your birthday, I swear.” 

Harry smiles, raking his fingers through his unruly curls and then smoothing them down. 

“Shouldn’t you be inside?” Harry asks curiously, his brow crinkling. “What are you doing out here?” 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Niall grins brilliantly. “I’m your best man!” 

“W-what?” Harry asks, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. “You want to be my best man?” 

“Of course,” Niall says, taking him by the shoulders. “It’s you and me in this, H. Has been from the start. And I refuse to let you just...stand up there by yourself. I’ve always got your back, remember?” 

Harry blows out a big breath, trying to tamp down the surge of emotion and affection for Niall Horan rushing through him, tears threatening to spring forth. 

“Niall,” he manages to choke out. 

“Nuh-uh,” Niall laughs, tugging him into a tight hug and smacking a kiss to his cheek. “Save the waterworks for the vows, buddy.” 

“Thank you,” Harry murmurs, squeezing Niall back with all his might. “For everything.” 

“My pleasure,” Niall grins as he releases him. “Now let’s get you hitched, yeah? You ready?” 

Harry nods, taking a deep breath as his stomach starts doing somersaults. 

“Let’s do this, then.” 

Niall throws open the double doors and Harry moves to stand behind him, taking another deep breath. 

He can do this, right? It’s just a lifetime commitment. No big deal. 

Harry sees Phoebe pressing play on a boom box; the wedding march blasts from the speakers and she giggles as she adjusts the volume. Harry takes in the chapel as Niall starts marching forward slowly, left, together, right, together. The chapel is small, basic, but lovely as well with stained glass windows, each of them showcasing different faiths. Jay and the girls have clearly worked to make the room festive: white bunting is draped on the ends of the pews, sprays of white roses and baby’s breath tied to every other row and there are two flower arrangements bookending the simple altar. Harry’s heart swells at the effort; he takes a third steadying breath, stepping forward. Left, together, right–

“Harry,” Niall mutters over his shoulder. “Your coat.” 

Harry stops, looking down and realizing he’s still bundled up in his overcoat and scarf. 

“Shit,” Harry mumbles, blood rushing to his face as his fingers fly to the buttons.

Laughter ripples through the chapel as Phoebe hits pause on the boombox; Harry quickly divests himself of his coat and scarf, tossing them over the arm of the empty back pew. He adjusts his gray suit jacket on his shoulders and straightens the pink bow of his blouse, making sure everything is in place before turning to Phoebe. 

“Take two?” 

Phoebe nods, rewinding the tape and hitting play. 

Harry catches everyone’s eyes as he slowly starts to make his way down the aisle. The Payne siblings are all done up in what has to be their Sunday best; Jay beams at him from the front row, her arm looped through Geoff’s while Olive dutifully takes pictures from the third row. Her flash goes off every few seconds, causing little pops of color to explode behind Harry’s eyelids every time he blinks. James, Leigh-Anne, and her boyfriend Andre sit across the aisle from the Paynes, and Harry feels another surge of emotion when he sees that Jade and practically the entire nursing staff from the fifth floor are behind them, filling up his side of the small chapel. It doesn’t make up for the one face that’s missing, but it helps. 

Liam waits for him at the end of the aisle, his eyes crinkling as he smiles nervously at Harry. He’s as handsome as ever, completely endearing in his slippers, pajama top and suit combo, the jacket draped over his shoulders like a cape. Harry smiles back at him just as nervously, his palms sweating and his heart racing in his chest. 

They’re really doing this, aren’t they? 

Everything is going great until Harry locks eyes with Louis. 

Harry had thought he’d prepared himself for this. After all, Louis had been the obvious choice when it came to Liam’s best man, so clearly, he would be next to his brother at the altar, standing up for him. But somehow, it had never quite clicked in Harry’s brain that he would have to walk down the aisle towards one man, with the man he loves standing  _ right there _ witnessing the whole thing go down. 

He doesn’t think anything could have truly prepared him for it. 

Louis looks devastatingly beautiful in his dark blue checked suit, crisp white button-down, and burgundy tie, his hair swooped back up off his face instead of his usual messy style. It’s a little strange seeing him all done up, Harry having grown accustomed to Louis’ preferred uniform of jeans and soft, cozy sweaters. He prefers Louis that way, he decides, however breathtaking he may be at this moment. 

Because Louis also looks miserable, his blue eyes cloudy and tormented, his jaw clenching as he tries to maintain a pleasant expression. His hands are clasped in front of him, his feet shoulder-width apart, but his fidgeting counteracts the power stance, making him look restless and like he’d rather be anywhere else than standing next to his brother. 

Harry swallows hard, unable to look away from Louis’ piercing gaze as he walks down the aisle. Louis presses his lips together, offering Harry a tight smile and a little nod as Niall takes his place by the altar. 

Fuck, Harry  _ loves _ him. 

Harry’s heart is pounding now, his stomach rolling. He’s torn between running from the room in panic and vomiting or just leaping into Louis’ arms and begging him to never let go. 

Instead, he just keeps walking. 

Harry finally reaches the altar, turning to face Liam, who smiles at him sweetly before giving the chaplain a nod; Louis stands just behind him, shifting his weight back and forth like a caged animal, catching Harry’s eyes over Liam’s shoulder. 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to–” 

“I object,” Harry breathes, his eyes never leaving Louis.’ 

Louis stops fidgeting, his eyes going wide as what can only be described as relief washes over his features. 

“Oh, shit,” Niall mutters behind him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry sees the chaplain looking at him with a confused expression. “I...didn’t get to that part yet?”

“I would have to object, too,” Louis states, his eyes locked on Harry’s, his gaze scorching. 

Harry’s heart leaps into his throat. 

“...And what about you?” the chaplain asks, looking at Liam, his eyebrows raised. 

“I...I,” Liam stammers, looking at Harry, then the chaplain, then back at Harry. “I’m thinking?” 

“What the hell is going on?” Geoff asks from the first pew. 

Harry takes a deep breath, turning to face Geoff and the rest of the family. They all look confused, save for Lottie, who leans back in her seat, a satisfied smirk on her bright red lips. 

“I am in love with your son,” Harry confesses. 

Everyone releases a breath, laughing awkwardly. 

“Harry, we know,” Jay says, smiling indulgently. 

“Not that one,” Harry clarifies, pointing at Liam. “That one,” he whispers, leaning forward and pointing at Louis. 

The chaplain snaps his book shut. 

Louis’ face softens, his eyes shining, the clouds in them suddenly clearing. Harry’s nose scrunches fondly as he smiles back at him. 

“Louis?” Jay gasps. “Oh, honey–” 

“How did this happen?” Geoff demands, looking between the pair of them. 

“This is just like  _ Days of Our Lives,” _ Olive pipes up, the eager grin on her face contradicting with the scandalized tone of her voice. “Louis, did you steal Harry away from your brother?”

“Louis?” Liam questions, his face confused as he turns to his brother. “What’s going on? What did you do?” 

“He didn’t do anything,” Harry states, rushing to protect Louis’ honor. “Honest, he didn’t. It was me. It was all me.” 

“Harry,” Louis says softly, raking his fingers through his hair, completely destroying his carefully constructed style. “Harry, it wasn’t just you–”

“No,” Harry halts him, taking a deep breath as he tries to settle the adrenaline rushing through his veins. “Lou, don’t. This is all my fault, okay?”

He knows what he has to do next; the words are on the tip of his tongue. He looks out at the bewildered faces of the Paynes, his heart clenching in his chest. Harry catches James’ eyes, raising his eyebrows helplessly; James nods back at him, his hand swiping down his cheek. 

“Olive, how you doing?” Harry asks, studying her carefully, looking for any signs of distress. “No, um, no chest pains or anything, yeah? You good?” 

Olive smiles and nods, snapping another picture, the flash temporarily blinding him. Harry blinks several times, combing his fingers through his hair nervously as he looks at Liam, who stares back at him completely flabbergasted. 

“Liam,” Harry whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

“Harry,” Jay says gently. “What’s going on, sweetheart?” 

“Do you guys remember the day of the accident?” Harry asks, his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest. “God, that’s a stupid question, of course you remember the day of the accident. Um. Okay. So, there was a little mix-up? Now, I saw Liam get pushed on the tracks, and I did jump down there to save him. That’s all true. But when I got to the hospital, they wouldn’t let me see him because I wasn’t immediate family.” 

Harry swallows hard, finding Jade’s eyes. She smiles back at him sheepishly, her cheeks pink. 

“Then someone very kind, she,” Harry continues, taking a shaky breath, “she told the doctors that I was Liam’s fiancé and then she took me up to his room, just so I could see that he was alright. Only, um–” 

Harry cracks his knuckles, his breath catching in his throat as tears well in his eyes. 

“It’s not true,” Harry finishes in a tiny voice, his eyes downcast as the tears spill over. “I...I was never engaged to Liam.” 

The room is silent enough to hear a pin drop. Harry bites his lip as he looks up, chancing a glance over at Louis; Louis’ face is pale, shock written all over his features as his shoulders slump. 

“Why didn’t you say something?” Louis asks quietly, privately, his eyes laser focused on Harry’s as he sweeps his hair aside, shifting his weight back and forth. 

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Harry whispers just for him, swiping the tears from his cheeks. “I’m sorry.” 

Louis inhales sharply, turning away as he scrubs his hands down his face. It feels like a bubble bursting, Harry suddenly realizing that they aren’t alone, but in a chapel full of people, all of whom are in various stages of shock. 

“I don’t understand,” Jay says slowly, baffled. “You aren’t Liam’s fiancé?” 

“The truth is I never even spoke to Liam until that morning on the platform,” Harry explains miserably, clearing his throat. He turns to Liam, whose mouth is downturned, his brow furrowed. “You...you walked by me almost everyday though. Every weekday between 8:15 and 8:30. Like clockwork. It was something I looked forward to each morning, as crazy as it sounds, and believe me, I know it sounds crazy. And then the day of the accident, you stopped at my booth and you smiled at me and you wished me a merry Christmas.” 

“I remember that,” Liam says with awe. “At least...I think I do?” 

“And then, you know the rest,” Harry continues, turning back out to the rest of the family, his heart clenching when he sees tears rolling down Jay’s face, Geoff gripping her hand tightly as he looks on, completely shell shocked. “When you all stormed into Liam’s hospital room, everything just...it all happened so fast, you know? I didn’t even have time to correct you before you were all hugging me and welcoming me to the family, I just...I couldn’t tell you then. I couldn’t do it. 

“I thought I would be able to like...I don’t know...set the record straight the next morning,” Harry sighs, his chin trembling as fresh tears spring to his eyes. “Then you invited me into your home for Christmas. I’ve never...I’m an only child of only children, so even before I lost my parents, I’ve never really had anything like that before and you just...you welcomed me without any hesitation. So then, I didn’t want to tell you the truth because the fact of the matter is that I fell in love with you.” 

“You fell in love with  _ me?” _ Olive marvels, setting her camera aside. “Oh, Harry!”

Harry laughs wetly in spite of himself, his heart swelling with love as his tears spill over. 

“I fell in love with all of you,” Harry says with a rueful smile, as he makes sure to make eye contact with each and every one of the Paynes. “Immediately. I went from being completely alone to being a fiancé, a son, a grandson, a brother, and a friend.” 

From behind him, Niall claps Harry on the shoulder, squeezing it tightly; it’s almost too much, really, and Harry swallows a sob, taking a moment to collect himself. Niall taps him on the shoulder, passing him a handkerchief; Harry accepts it gratefully, blowing his nose noisily. Finally, Harry looks back over at Liam, who watches him carefully, his brown eyes unreadable. Louis stands just behind him, his eyes downcast, his lips pressed together so tightly they are white. 

“Liam, I might have saved your life that day on the subway platform, but you know what? You really saved mine,” Harry admits, his tears flowing freely. “You allowed me to a be a part of your family, and I just...I haven’t had that feeling of belonging in a really long time and I just...I didn’t want to let go of that. Of them. I’m unbelievably grateful to you for sharing them with me, even if it was only for a week and a half.”

Harry turns back to the family he’s come to love with every fiber of his being, his hand resting over his heart as he takes in their tear-stained faces. 

“I know we only knew each other for a little while, but please know that I will love you always,” Harry barely manages to choke out through his tears. “I’m very, very sorry. I hope you can forgive me someday. I never meant to hurt anyone.” 

Harry looks over at Louis imploringly; Louis stares back at him, his blue eyes red-rimmed as he rakes a hand through his hair, squeezing the back of his neck as he exhales shakily. Harry has no idea what he’s thinking, and he suddenly doesn’t want to know, the desire to just get the fuck out of there so he can go home and cuddle with Velma under a fluffy blanket overwhelming him. 

“I should...I should go,” Harry says hastily, crumpling Niall’s handkerchief in his fist. “I’ll just–”

“Harry–” Louis croaks. 

The doors to the chapel fling open. Harry freezes as a man so beautiful he could only be a fucking male supermodel barges in. He’s dressed completely in black leather, his black hair and dark eyes wild, steam practically coming out of his ears. A tall, thin woman – definitely another supermodel – is hot on his heels, her honeyed-blonde hair styled in perfect waves and her clear green eyes snapping furiously. 

“Liam Payne proposed to me first!” the male supermodel bellows as he thrusts his left hand in the air, a platinum band with a diamond solitaire inlaid in it sparkling in the sunlight. “I have proof!”

“Liam!” Geoff exclaims. “What is that man doing with your grandfather’s ring?” 

“Did you  _ take that _ from my apartment?” Liam asks incredulously. “Oh my God, Zayn.”

So  _ this _ is the famous Zayn. Somehow, Harry is not in the least bit surprised. He edges around Zayn and his female companion, pressing himself up against the pews. 

“You gave it to me!” Zayn shrieks.

“You know I took it back when you said no,” Liam protests. “We’ve talked about this!” 

“Well, you did say I could take whatever I wanted from the apartment, Liam,” Zayn sneers. “Anyway, I object to this wedding!” 

“Yeah, well, get in line, pal,” the chaplain quips. 

“And I object to Zayn’s objection because he’s  _ already _ in a relationship with me!” the female supermodel exclaims. 

“You said Gigi was out of the picture,” Liam accuses. 

“Who is Gigi?” Geoff exclaims. “Liam, what the hell–”

The room quickly descends into chaos as various parties start shouting at each other. Harry can feel Louis’ eyes on him as he slinks towards the door, but he can’t bear to look back at him, not when he knows he’ll only see contempt there. He catches Niall’s eyes instead, sniffling and waving at him sadly before he grabs his coat and slips outside, no one else even noticing that he’s gone. 

********

Harry takes his phone off the hook as soon as he gets home, needing to isolate himself from the rest of the world for a while. He knows the likelihood of Niall calling to check on him is high, and as much as he appreciates the thought, he also just can’t deal with it right now. The heartbreak of the day is too raw, the thought of a future without Louis and the Paynes in his life too painful. 

He bundles up on the couch in his mom’s afghan and just lets the tears come. Velma curls up on his chest, pressing her face into his neck, attempting to comfort him, just like she’s done ever since she was a baby. 

The next thing Harry knows, he’s being jolted out of a sound sleep by a knock at the door. Velma meows in protest from the pillow next to him as he sits up, completely disoriented as he swipes at his crusty eyes. It’s dark outside now, Harry notes, clearly having slept the afternoon away. His face feels puffy, and he’s  _ still  _ tired, despite the long nap. The emotions of the day, not to mention the crying jag, have sapped every little bit of energy from him. 

A second knock echoes in the apartment, more urgent this time. 

Harry’s stomach does a little flip. 

_ Louis. _

It  _ has  _ to be Louis. 

Right? 

Harry scrambles to his feet, nearly tripping as his feet tangle in the afghan. He pinches his cheeks and rakes his fingers through his curls, fluffing up the ends as he reaches the door, throwing it open eagerly. 

“Hi, Harry,” Nick grins. 

Harry’s heart sinks to the floor. 

Of course Louis isn’t here. Louis hates him. His family hates him. 

Harry knows he deserves it and he had it coming, but still, it fucking hurts. 

“Hi, Nick,” Harry sighs. “What can I do for you?” 

“I just wanted to let you know that I asked Meshach out,” Nick grins, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back in forth on his heels. “We have a date the day after tomorrow.” 

Everyone finds love except for him, Harry thinks bitterly.  

“That’s great, Nick,” Harry sighs, barely mustering up the energy for a smile. “I’m...really happy for you.” 

“Yeah, we’re gonna go get...hey,” Nick says, finally noticing Harry’s ashen face. “What’s wrong?” 

“Long day,” Harry replies. 

“Is it that guy?” Nick asks, crossing his arms over his chest and knitting his eyebrows together as he studies Harry. “Do I need to call someone? You know, I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who could–” 

“No, no,” Harry says weakly, waving his hand in dismissal. “It’s not his fault. Things just...well, some things aren’t meant to work out, I guess.” 

Nick frowns. 

“Are you okay, Harry?” he asks tentatively. 

“I will be,” Harry says, more to himself than to Nick. “I will be.” 

“Well, ah...right now, you should take the time to um, get in touch with the ah, the child within,” Nick fumbles. “Embrace your emotions and all that.” 

“And all that?” Harry says with a lopsided smile. 

“It’s what the self-help book my ma’s reading says,” Nick explains. “I don’t really know what she’s talking about, but it sounds helpful, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Harry nods. 

“Just don’t go embracing all your emotions with cake and cookies and all that shit, ’cause you’ll just blow up like my aunt Roberta did when her husband left her, Harry, and you...you deserve better than that. And that guy’s crazy if he doesn’t see how great you are, yeah?” 

“Thanks, Nick,” Harry says softly, warmth filling his chest. “Hey, do you want to come in? I may not have cake or cookies, but I do have a bottle of wine we could share?” 

“You want to hang out with me?” Nick asks in surprise. “Really?” 

“Sure, why not,” Harry says, holding the door open wider, inviting him in. “I wanna hear the whole story about Meshach anyway. From the beginning.” 

“Okay,” Nick says eagerly, stepping inside, shutting the door behind him. “So it was at the New Year’s Eve party, yeah? I tried to remember what you said about not coming on too strong…” 

Harry smiles, listening to Nick prattle on excitedly as he grabs his bottle of red from the kitchen, two glasses, and a corkscrew. 

He’s going to be okay. 


	11. Chapter 11

Harry feels a strong sense of deja vu as he marches into James’ office the next morning, clutching a piece of paper that he’d printed out that morning on Nick Sr.’s computer in his hand.

“Harry!” James exclaims, setting his tall paper cup of coffee aside. “Jesus, are you okay? I tried calling you like fifty times last night, but didn’t get an answer. I was worried.”

Harry looks at James’ openly concerned face and feels some of the hurt and shame and embarrassment of the previous day fade away. If he’s learned anything lately, it’s that as alone as he feels most of the time, he’s not _actually_ as alone as he thinks he is.

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologizes, raking his fingers through his hair. “I took the phone off the hook when I got home. I just needed...silence.”

“I get that,” James nods solemnly. “How are you doing? Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better,” Harry admits, shrugging out of his coat. He pulls out the chair in front of James’ desk and collapses into it with a huff.

“I’m sure,” James says, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry it all went down that way, Harry. I really am.”

“Thanks,” Harry whispers, scuffing the toe of his boot on the linoleum floor.

“How can I help? Do you want to come over for dinner or anything? What can I do for you?”  

“Dinner would be great,” Harry says, sitting up straight in his chair. “But the first thing you can do for me is take this.”

James frowns as he takes the proffered piece of paper.

“What’s this?”

“It’s my two-week notice,” Harry states without a moment of hesitation, a big burden lifting off his chest the moment he says the words.

“Oh, Harry,” James sympathizes. “Is this because of yesterday? Look, there’s no need to quit your job, okay? Maybe we can get you transferred to another station? I know you said that 66th Street is his stop, and I get you wanting to leave _this_ station, but–”

“It is, but it also isn’t because of yesterday,” Harry explains, fiddling with the sleeve of his thick brown sweater. “I mean, yeah, obviously, I don’t want to be at this station anymore. I don’t...I don’t think I could bear seeing Liam everyday and having him...I don’t know...either ignoring me or looking at me with contempt.”

“Okay, so we–”

“But the truth is,” Harry continues, his voice unwavering, “I’m afraid that if I don’t quit now, then I never will, James, and then I’ll be just...stuck here. The MTA has been good to me, but it was never the forever plan, you know? It’s not what I wanted to do with my life, and it definitely isn’t the kind of life my mom wanted for me. I know everything with the Paynes ended in disaster, but they showed me that there’s so much more out there for me. I just...I just have to get up out of my booth and take the chance, you know? It’s time.”

James nods, pride and understanding shining in his eyes.

“What are you going to do?”

“Before Mom got sick, my plan was culinary school,” Harry answers with a shy smile. “I don’t know how in the world I’m going to afford it, but there’s got to be financial aid or something, yeah? In the meantime, I know my favorite bakery is hiring and I’m friendly with the owner, so I thought I’d start there. I’ve got like no experience other than baking at home, but I know I’m good at it. I don’t care if I have to start out at the cash register and work my way up, I just hope Barbara will be willing to take a chance on me.”

“She’d be crazy not to,” James says kindly. “Any place would be lucky to have you, Harry. You have been an outstanding employee and we’re going to miss you terribly. I wasn’t just blowing smoke up your ass when I submitted you for employee of the month, y’know.”

“You just wanted me to work Christmas,” Harry mumbles.

“And just _look_ what happened because of that,” James teases gently, his eyes twinkling.

A wave of melancholy washes over Harry, and he smiles sadly. He meant what he said yesterday. He will love the Paynes always, and treasure the short time he had with them. Sure, it hurts like hell right now, but at the same time, Harry realizes that he wouldn’t change a thing.

“Thank you, James,” Harry says softly. “For everything.”

James smiles, looking at him appraisingly.

“Tell you what,” James says, clapping his hands together. “You have three weeks of vacation, along with plenty of sick and personal days banked. Why don’t you just work your shift today and that’s that? I’ll make sure everything gets paid out, so you’re not losing anything.”

“For real?” Harry squeaks. “I don’t...James, are you sure? What about–”

“I’ll take care of finding coverage for your shifts,” James assures him. “You’ve done it enough for all of us, Harry, more times than I can count. It’s time to let us take care of you.”

********

_Clink._

Harry fishes out the token out of the little receptacle, sliding it over to the side as he buzzes someone through the gate. His eyes dart up to the clock in the booth and he smiles, counting down the time left in his final shift. He has no idea what’s next for him, and it’s entirely possible that he’s insane for just up and quitting his steady, comfortable job, but at this moment, he can’t help but feel hopeful for the future.

_Clink._

“I can’t believe you’re really leaving,” Leigh-Anne says over her shoulder from the opposite window. “Just like that?”

“Yep,” Harry replies, stacking the tokens in a neat little pile. “I really can’t believe it either.”

“How do you feel?”

_Clink._

“Good,” Harry answers. “I mean, kinda scared shitless, but in a good way, y’know?”

Leigh-Anne nods, buzzing someone through her turnstile.

“I’m sure gonna miss you, Harry,” she says. “This booth won’t be the same without you.”

 _Clink_.

“I’m gonna miss you, too,” Harry replies, turning towards her and smiling, pressing the buzzer at the same time, the action second nature by now. “But we’ll see each other, I promise. We _are_ still neighbors, after all.”

“That’s true,” Leigh-Anne smiles, quickly squeezing his shoulder before turning back around. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Harry.”

“Nor would I want to,” Harry says, swiveling back around, his eyes downcast as he bites back a grin.

_Clunk._

 

Harry’s eyes go wide as he sees not a subway token in the receptacle, but a gold ring with delicate engravings on the sides and a large rectangular-cut, blood-red ruby in the center. Harry sucks in a sharp breath as he carefully scoops up the ring, its weight solid and heavy in his hand.

It’s the most beautiful ring he’s ever seen.

Harry looks up slowly, his heart starting to pound in his chest.

And there, standing at the window, is a slightly windswept Louis, smiling back at him softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Harry’s breath catches in his throat. It takes a moment longer than it should for Harry to realize that the entire Payne family, including a newly discharged Liam, has crowded in around Louis, eager and expectant smiles on their faces.

Harry blinks several times, his heart thudding in his chest as he tries to convince himself that he’s not dreaming.

“Hi,” Louis rasps, his smile growing wider. Harry’s suddenly shaking like a leaf, but Louis seems completely calm. Confident, even. His grip on the small counter of the booth, causing his knuckles to go white, is the only sign he’s feeling the same nerves as Harry.

Harry promptly bursts into tears, joy and relief and love flooding through him as he honks out a wet laugh. Closing his fist around the ring, Harry scrubs his other hand down his face, peering up at Louis through his fingers.

“Hi,” Harry gulps, his stomach doing all sorts of backflips and cartwheels and flip-flops.

“Harry, I need to ask you a question,” Louis says, taking a deep breath, his eyes locked on Harry’s.

“Oh, holy shit,” Leigh-Anne murmurs behind him.

“Get on one knee!” Olive urges. “It’s more romantic that way!”

“He’s proposing, Mom!” Jay scolds fondly.

“Yeah, let him do it!” Geoff adds with a grin.

“I _am_ letting him do it,” Olive insists. “I just think he should get down on one knee–”

“Grandma, come on!” Lottie chides.

“I can’t see!” Doris exclaims, jumping up and down. “Did he say yes?”

Harry giggles as Louis rolls his eyes, his mouth twisting with amusement.

 

“Can I come in there?” Louis asks, nervously sweeping his hair aside. “Please?”

“Not without a token you can’t,” Harry answers, trying to keep a serious expression on his face. “The MTA rules clearly state that you need a token to come through the turnstile, Louis.”

Louis doesn’t even flinch, his eyes never leaving Harry’s as he reaches in his pocket and retrieves a token, expertly flipping it into the receptacle with his thumb. He arches an eyebrow at Harry challengingly; Harry breaks out in a massive grin as he presses the button to buzz Louis through. Louis smiles back at Harry as Liam claps him on the shoulders, his brown eyes warm as he looks over at Harry.

“Well, what are you waiting for, brother?”

“Right,” Louis exhales, nodding decisively. “What _am_ I waiting for?”

“Go get him, Tommo!” Niall cheers as Louis strides through the turnstile.

The family titters excitedly, all at once. Harry can barely make out a word they’re saying over the blood rushing in his ears; he can only grin at them, tears streaming down his cheeks as he clasps the ring in his hand, his heart near bursting as he makes eye contact with Jay and sees the happy tears welling in her eyes.

“I’m gonna take a break!” Leigh-Anne says hastily, closing her window. “And by ‘take a break’ I mean ‘I’ll be just outside,’ so speak up please, oh my _God,_ this is the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen–”

Louis knocks on the booth door. Leigh-Anne throws the door open, saluting Louis as she scoots past him with a muttered “well done.” Louis steps inside, not even hesitating as he strides across the small booth, bracing one arm on the counter as he leans into Harry’s space, gently brushing the tears from his cheeks with his thumb, his careful touch shooting sparks all over Harry’s skin.

“Baby,” Louis murmurs, his eyes roving over Harry’s face, drinking him in. “Oh, baby, don’t cry.”

“You’re here,” Harry smiles through his tears, gripping the lapel of Louis’ shearling jacket to ground himself.

“I am,” Louis nods, gently tucking a curl behind Harry’s ear.

“I thought...I thought I’d never see you again,” Harry admits with a shuddery sigh, his eyes downcast as he studies the ring in his hand with awe. “God, Louis, I–”

“Harry,” Louis utters, tipping Harry’s chin up, smiling when their eyes meet. “I have wanted you from the moment you smacked me in the face with a door.”

“Which time?” Harry asks with a watery smile.

“The first time,” Louis grins, pressing his thumb into Harry’s left dimple. “And then, all it took was twenty blocks and a hot dog from a street vendor to fall head over heels in love with you.”

“Me too,” Harry gulps, his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest.

“You belonged to us from the moment we met you, Haz,” Louis says, thumbing over Harry’s cheekbone. “You were always supposed to be a member of this family, we–”

“Just had to find me,” Harry finishes, his smile widening.

Louis nods happily, his eyes crinkling shut.

“You challenge me,” Louis continues, taking his hand. “You make me laugh and you make me feel all lit up inside. You gave me the courage to follow my dreams, Harry, and I want to be that person for you, if you’ll have me. When I think of the future now, I can’t imagine one without you in it.”

“Lou,” Harry whispers as Louis gently plucks the ring from Harry’s grasp.

“Marry me, Harry?” Louis asks softly, holding up the ring.

“God, yes,” Harry breathes as he licks his lips, his grip on Louis’ jacket the only thing keeping him from floating away. “Yes, of course, I’ll marry you, Louis.”

Louis beams, his face as radiant as the sun as he looks at Harry in awe, his eyes drifting down to his mouth.

“Are you just gonna lean all day or are you actually gonna kiss me?” Harry teases.

“Shut up,” Louis huffs, cupping Harry’s jaw, dipping his head down and finally, _finally_ sealing their lips together in a firm, insistent kiss.

Harry sighs into it, the rest of the world melting away until there’s nothing but the feeling of Louis’ soft, warm lips against his. It’s everything he wanted and nothing he expected at the same time, goosebumps prickling on his arms and fireworks exploding in his brain as their lips move together, instantly in sync and just so, so perfect that Harry would be completely content doing this and only this for the rest of his life.

He can’t believe that’s actually an option now.

Louis hums in the back of his throat, his hand creeping around the back of Harry’s neck and tangling in his curls, his tongue brushing the seam of Harry’s lips. Harry opens for him, Louis’ tongue gently brushing against Harry’s as if he couldn’t resist just taking a taste. Harry’s vaguely aware of the rest of the family cheering and catcalling, someone (Niall, it’s definitely Niall) even wolf-whistling, but none of that seems to matter right now, Harry pulling Louis closer by the lapels of his jacket.

“Oh my God, get a room already, honestly,” someone (Lottie, Harry thinks) scoffs teasingly. “No one needs to see this.”

Louis giggles into Harry’s mouth, pressing one more kiss to Harry’s lips before he pulls back, rubbing their noses together and smiling softly.

God, Harry loves him.

“As if you haven’t been dying for this to happen, Charlotte,” Louis quips, raising his voice and tilting his face towards the booth window.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lottie replies innocently, crossing her arms over her chest, her blue eyes gleaming.

“Yeah, a likely story, Miss ‘Oh, look, you’re standing under the mistletoe,’ sure, okay,” Harry grins. “We definitely believe you.”

“Oh my God, what have we done?” Lottie groans playfully, looping her arm through Fizzy’s. “Take it back Louis, we don’t want Harry in this family.”

Louis turns back to Harry, his face scrunching up fondly as he dips his thumb into Harry’s dimple.

“Did I tell you I love your dimples?” Louis asks softly.

“I love _you,”_ Harry murmurs.

“I love you, too,” Louis replies, pecking his lips once, twice, and a third time. “Shall we make this official?”

Harry nods as Louis holds out the ring; Louis takes Harry’s hand, his own hand shaking a little as he slides the ruby ring down Harry’s ring finger, kissing his knuckles. The ring is a little loose, the ruby sliding to the side as Harry holds up his hand.

“We can go get it sized,” Louis says quietly. “It’s a family heirloom, I didn’t have time–”

“If you think I’m handing this over to a jeweler anytime soon, you’re insane,” Harry replies, switching the ring to his index finger, where it fits perfectly.

“Let us see, let us see!” Phoebe and Daisy demand outside the booth. Harry beams, standing up and turning to the family. He holds up his left hand, the ruby glittering even in the artificial light of the booth. Everyone oohs and ahhs appropriately.

“Welcome to the family, Harry,” Geoff grins. “Again.”

Harry didn’t know it was possible to be _this_ happy. He turns back to his new fiancé, his cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so hard.

“That ring looks nice there,” Louis says casually, tangling his fingers with Harry’s right hand, his thumb tracing a gentle pattern over his knuckles. “Maybe I’ll just get you another one for the right finger.”

He lifts Harry’s hand and presses slow, soft kisses to his knuckles without breaking eye contact.

“Or maybe,” he murmurs, squeezing Harry’s hand. “Maybe I’ll spend our lives picking one out for every finger, make sure everyone knows you’re mine and I’m yours. I can start when we’re in Italy, we can go pick one out and I’ll propose again, without a big audience this time.”

Harry knocks over a pile of subway tokens.

“What did you just say?”

Louis shrugs, a smirk twisting his lips as he squeezes and releases Harry’s hand.

“Hey, Li?” Louis calls, completely ignoring Harry’s question.

“Yes?” Liam answers.

“Can you take care of Harry’s cat for us?” Louis asks.

“Lou, what’s–” Harry starts, looking between the two brothers.

“Her name is Velma, she’s an angel, and could use a luxury vacation herself,” Louis continues, winking at Harry, before looking at Liam, his eyebrows raised.

“Oh, right! Of course,” Liam smiles, nodding at Harry kindly. “Y’know, I actually did miss Fluffy when I got home this morning. Maybe I’m a cat person now, too?”

“Louis, what’s going on?” Harry asks nervously, his heart starting to race. “What are you saying?”

Louis closes the small bit of distance between them, looking up at Harry through his eyelashes, a sly smile on his face.

“I’m _saying_ do you still have that passport on you, Curly?”

“Yes, of course,” Harry replies breathlessly. “Always.”

Louis reaches inside his jacket, his blue eyes shining as he pulls out two pieces of paper, handing them over to Harry with a smile.

“Then how about you and I go on an adventure? No plans. Just, you, me, and a map of the world.”

A tear rolls down Harry’s cheek, his hands shaking as he looks down at the tickets to Italy.

The whole world in his hands.

He looks back up at Louis, his eyes wide.

“What do you say, Haz?” Louis asks, taking his hand.

Harry releases a shaky breath, pressing his lips to Louis’ and smiling against them.

“I say yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! [A rebloggable tumblr post can be found here.](https://crinkle-eyed-boo.tumblr.com/post/184780225224/let-our-hearts-collide-by-crinkle-eyed-boo-77k) Please share it and leave a kudo, I'm not above begging.


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